, 


WALTER    BESANT. 


THE 


WOKLD  WEiNT  VERY  WELL  THEN 


H  Bowl 


BY  WALTER  BESANT 

AUTHOR  OF 

"ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OP  MEN"  "ALL  IN  A  GARDEN  FAIR" 

"THE  CHILDREN  OP  GIBBON"  "HERR  PAULUS" 

"FIFTY  YEARS  AGO"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 
.HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 

1888 


BY  WALTER  BE  S ANT. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  How  JACK  HEARD  OP  LANDS  BEYOND  THE  SEA 1 

II.  How  JACK  CAME  TO  DEPTFORD 16 

III.  How  JACK  LEARNED  OF  THE  PENMAN 33 

IV.  How  JACK  FIRST  WENT  TO  SEA 42 

V.  MIDSHIPMAN  JACK 49 

VI.  THE  "  COUNTESS  OF  DORSET  " 57 

VII.  MR.  BRINJES  CONCLUDES  THE  STORY  OF  HIS  VOYAGE    ...     63 

VIII.  THE  "COUNTESS  OF  DORSET"  SAILS 78 

IX.  AARON  FLETCHER 88 

X.  How  JACK  CAME  HOME  AGAIN 92 

XL  THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  "COUNTESS  OF  DORSET" 108 

XII.  How  JACK  THANKED  BESS 124 

XIII.  JACK  ASHORE 129 

XIV.  THE  MEDDLESOME  ASSISTANT 138 

XV.  HORN  FAIR '. 146 

XVI.  IN  THE  SUMMER-HOUSE 163 

XVII.  IN  BUTCHER  Row 172 

XVIII.  A  DARK  NIGHT'S  JOB 180 

XIX.  IN  THE  CRIMP'S  HOUSE 189 

XX.  OF  JACK'S  ESCAPE 198 

XXI.  A  RUDE  AWAKENING 205 

XXII.  THE  PRIVATEERS 217 

XXIII.  A  SAILOR'S  CHARM 224 

XXIV.  AFTER  JACK'S  DEPARTURE 234 

XXV.  LIEUTENANT  AARON  FLETCHER 244 

XXVI.  How  MR.  BRINJES  EXERCISED  ins  POWERS 249 

XXVII.  IN  COMMAND 256 

XXVIII.  How  BESS  LISTENED  FOR  HIS  STEPS 261 

XXIX.  "HE  HATH  SUFFERED  A  SEA-CHANGE" 270 

XXX.  ALAS!    POOR  BESS! 277 

XXXI.  AN  AMBASSADOR  OF  LOVE 284 

XXXII.  How  THE  APOTHECARY  DID  ins  BEST 293 


952141 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXXIII.  AN  INTERESTING  CASE 299 

XXXIV.  How  CASTILLA  WAS  BETROTHED 30G 

XXXV.  How  PHILADELPHY  KEPT  THE  SECRET 309 

XXXVI.  How  BESS  WENT  OUT  OP  HER  WITS 314 

XXXVII.  How  BESS  RECOVERED  HER  SENSES 324 

XXXVIII.  How  PHILADELPHY  REFUSED  A  BRIBE 332 

XXXIX.  How  BAD  NEWS  CAME  HOME 338 

XL.  How  THE  NEWS  WAS  RECEIVED 340 

XLI.  How  THE  "CALYPSO"  CAME  HOME  AGAIN   ......  354 

XLII.  OF  THE  COURT-MARTIAL 363 

XLIII.  AFTER  THE  COURT-MARTIAL 378 

XLIV.  How  BESS  WENT  AWAY 385 

XLV.  THE  CONCLUSION.  .  394 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


WALTER    BESANT Frontispiece. 

"IN    THE    SMALL    BACK    PARLOR    BEHIND    THE    APOTHECARY'S 

SHOP" To  face  page   2 

"JACK  STEPPED  ACROSS  THE  LAWN,  LUGGED  OFF  HIS  HAT 
WITH  A  DUCK  AND  A  BEND,  AND  SAID,  '  COME  ABOARD, 
SIR'" "  20 

"'GOOD-BYE,  BESS.'  HE  LAID  HIS  ARM  ROUND  THE  GIRL'S 

NECK  AND  KISSED  HER  ON  BOTH  CHKEKS  " 48 

"BESS  STOOD  BY,  CLAPPING  HER  HANDS  WHEN  JACK'S  FIST 

WENT  HOME" 58 

"THEY  STOPPED  ONLY  TO  DRINK,  AND  THEN  FOUGHT  AGAIN 

LIKE   SO   MANY   DEVILS " "  66 

"HE     STOOD     AT     HIS     EASEL,    A     KNITTED     NIGHTCAP    ON    HIS 

HEAD,  AND  IN  HIS  SHIRT  SLEEVES " 88 

"'  HE   CAUGHT  THE   GIRL   BY  BOTH   HANDS,  AND  BENT  OVER 

HER" "  108 

"  ROOM  FOR  THE   DOCTOR,  GENTLEMEN  !    ROOM  FOR  THE 

DOCTOR!" "  154 

"JACK    SPRANG    UPON   THE   FELLOW,  AND   CAUGHT  HIM   BY 

THE  THROAT" "  182 

"MR.   BRINJES   SURVEYED   HER   CRITICALLY.      THEN   HE   SIGHED 

AND  SAID,  'THOU  ART,  I  SWEAR,  BESS,  FIT  FOR  THE 

GODS  THEMSELVES!'" .  .  .  "  252 

"SHE  STOOD  BEFORE  HIM,  HER  ARMS  OUT  AS  IF  TO  STOP  THE 

PISTOL  BULLET" "  322 

"THEN  THE  CAPTAIN  STRUCK  HIS  COLORS,  WHICH  HE  DID 
WITH  HIS  OWN  HAND,  THE  MEN  LOOKING  ON  IN  SHEER 
AMAZEMENT" "  356 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOW  JACK  HEARD  TALK  OF  LANDS  BEYOND  THE  SEA. 

IN  a  small  back  parlor,  behind  an  apothecary's  shop,  were 
sitting  two  boys  and  a  girl.  The  boys  were  aged  respectively 
twelve  years  and  ten ;  the  elder  of  them  was  a  tall  and  strongly 
built  lad,  with  curling  hair  of  a  dark  brown,  and  eyes  of  much 
the  same  color ;  the  younger,  fair-haired,  and  of  slighter  pro- 
portions. The  girl  was  nine ;  but  she  looked  more,  being  tall 
for  her  age.  Her  hair  was  so  dark  that  it  looked  almost  black. 
It  hung  loose,  in  long  curls  or  ripples,  not  being  coarse  and 
thick,  as  happens  generally  with  hair  that  is  quite  black,  but 
fine  in  texture  and  lustrous  to  look  upon.  Her  eyes,  too,  were 
black  and  large.  The  elder  boy  and  the  girl  sat  side  by  side 
in  the  window-seat,  while  the  other  boy  sat  at  the  table,  having  a 
pencil  in  his  hand  and  a  piece  of  paper  before  him,  on  which  he 
was  drawing  idly  whatever  came  into  his  head.  All  three  were 
silent,  save  that  the  elder  boy  from  time  to  time  whispered 
the  girl,  or  pinched  her  ear,  or  pulled  her  hair,  when  she  would 
shake  her  head  and  smile,  and  point  to  the  great  chair  beside 
the  fire,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  If  it  were  not  for  that  chair,  Jack, 
and  the  person  in  it,  I  would  box  thy  ears." 

It  was  not  a  cold  day.  The  sun  shone  through  the  lattice 
window,  and  fell  upon  the  heads  of  the  two  who  sat  together, 
and  motes  innumerable  danced  merrily  in  the  light ;  yet  there 
was  a  coal  fire  burning  in  the  grate.  On  one  hob  simmered  a 
saucepan,  with  some  broth  in  it  or  compound  of  simples  (while 
the  children  sat  waiting,  the  apothecary's  assistant  stepped  in 
noiselessly,  lifted  the  lid,  took  out  a  spoonful,  sighed,  tasted  it, 
shook  his  head  for  the  nastiness  of  it,  and  went  back  into  the 
1 


2  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

shop).  On  the  other  hob  stood  a  kettle,  singing  comfortably- 
kept  there  always,  day  and  night,  but  not  for  'making  tea,  I 
promise  you.  As ;  for  ths  room  itself ,  it  was  exactly  like  a 
ship's  cabin,  being'-  iran-ow  and  low,  and  fitted  with  shelves 
and  drawers.  On  one  side  was  a  pallet,  something  like  a 
bunk  in  an  officer's  cabin,  with  a  flock  mattress  upon  it,  and 
a  pair  of  blankets  rolled  up  snug.  Here  the  apothecary  slept 
when  the  weather  was  cold,  that  is  to  say,  nearly  all  the  year 
round.  Herbs  and  drugs  tied  in  bundles  hung  from  the  rafters, 
as  onions  hang  in  a  farmhouse ;  the  window  was  a  lattice, 
with  small  diamond  panes  set  in  lead ;  above  the  mantelshelf 
hung  a  silver  watch ;  on  the  shelf  itself  stood  a  pair  of  brass 
candlesticks,  the  model  of  a  ship  full  rigged — her  name  written 
in  red  ink  on  a  wooden  stand,  "  The  King  Solomon,  of  Bristol " 
— a  pair  of  ship's  pistols,  a  tobacco  jar,  and  two  or  three  long 
pipes.  The  apothecary's  great  wig,  which  he  wore  every  even- 
ing at  the  club,  hung  from  a  peg  on  the  wall  behind  the  elbow 
chair ;  and  in  the  corner  of  the  room  opposite  the  chair  there 
was  a  very  fearful  and  terrible  thing  until  you  grew  accustomed 
to  it,  when  you  ceased  to  fear  it.  This  was  nothing  less  than 
a  stick  painted  red  and  black,  with  bright-colored  feathers  tied 
round  it,  and  surmounted  by  a  grinning  human  skull.  It  was  a 
magic  stick,  called,  we  were  told,  the  Ekpenyong,  or  skull-stick, 
by  the  Mandingo  sorcerers — a  thing  only  to  be  handled  by  an 
Obeah  man,  the  possession  of  which  is  supposed  by  negroes 
either  to  confer  or  to  proclaim  wonderful  powers,  and  cut  from 
a  juju  or  holy  tree.  Beside  it  lay  two  musical  instruments, 
also  from  Africa — one  a  hollow  block  of  wood  covered  with  a 
sheepskin,  and  the  other  a  kind  of  rude  guitar.  This  stick  it 
was  which  caused  the  apothecary  to  be  greatly  respected  by 
the  admiral's  negroes,  as  you  will  presently  hear.  He  who 
has  such  a  stick  can  catch  the  shadow,  as  they  say,  that  is,  the 
soul,  of  a  man ;  and  set  Obi  upon  him,  that  is  to  say,  bring  suf- 
fering, sorrow,  and  shame  upon  him.  So  that  the  possessor  of 
a  skull-stick  is  a  person  greatly  to  be  feared  and  envied. 

There  was  an  open  cupboard  beside  the  fire,  in  which  were 
household  stores,  such  as  bacon,  cheese,  butter,  bread,  strings 
of  onions,  a  two-gallon  jar  or  firkin  of  rum,  plates  and  knives, 
for  the  room  was  a  kitchen  as  well  as  an  eating-room  and  a 
sleeping-room.  Once  a  week  or  so,  if  business  was  slack  and 


In  Hie  small  back  parlor  behind  the  apotfiecary's  shop" 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  3 

there  was  nothing  else  to  do,  the  assistant  might,  if  he  thought 
of  it,  come  with  a  broom  and  sweep  the  dust  out  into  the  street. 
But  I  do  not  remember  that  the  room  was  ever  washed.  And 
what  with  the  tobacco,  the  stores  in  the  cupboard,  the  rum,  the 
drugs  hanging  from  the  rafters,  and  the  contents  of  the  shelves, 
the  place  had,  to  a  sailor,  exactly  the  smell  of  the  cockpit  or 
orlop  deck  after  a  long  voyage ;  for  in  that  part  of  the  ship 
are  kept  the  purser's  stores,  the  bo'sVs  stores,  the  spirit-room, 
the  surgeon's  storeroom,  the  midshipmen's  berths  and  their 
mess.  For  this  reason,  perhaps,  its  owner,  who  had  been  a 
sailor,  would  never  open  the  window,  and  always,  on  returning 
home,  sniffed  the  air  of  the  room  with  a  peculiar  satisfaction. 

The  great  chair — which  might  have  served  for  the  chair  of 
a  hall  porter,  having  a  broad  low  seat  and  a  high  back  with 
arms — was  stuffed  or  padded  with  three  or  four  pillows,  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  pillows  lay  an  old  man  sleeping.  This  was 
Mr.  Brinjes,  the  famous  Apothecary  of  Deptford.  He  was 
small  of  stature  and  thin :  his  face  (over  one  eye  was  a  black 
patch)  was  creased  and  lined  like  a  russet  apple,  which  shrinks 
before  it  rots ;  his  chin  was  hollow ;  his  head,  covered  with  a 
padded  silk  nightcap,  was  sunk  deep  in  the  pillows  like  a  child's ; 
he  lay  upon  his  side  ;  his  feet,  stretched  out,  were  propped  on  a 
footstool ;  one  hand  was  under  his  cheek,  and  the  other  hung 
over  the  arm  of  the  chair  (you  might  have  noticed  that  the 
skin  of  his  hand  was  wrinkled  and  loose,  as  if  the  bones  be- 
longed to  an  occupant  smaller  than  was  at  first  intended).  As 
he  lay  asleep  there  he  looked  like  one  in  extreme  old  age,  such 
as  may  be  seen  in  country  villages,  where  they  take  a  pride  in 
showing  the  visitor,  in  proof  of  the  healthiness  of  the  country 
air,  some  old  gaffer  of  a  hundred  years  and  more  sitting  before 
a  fire. 

Through  the  open  door  could  be  seen  the  shop.  It  was  small, 
like  the  parlor  behind  it.  The  rafters  were  hung  with  dried 
herbs ;  the  shelves  were  full  of  bottles.  There  was  a  chair  for 
the  reception  of  those  patients  who  could  not  stand ;  there  was 
a  counter,  with  scales  great  and  small ;  a  pestle  and  mortar ;  a 
box  containing  surgical  instruments — the  pincers  for  pulling 
out  teeth,  the  cup,  the  basin,  the  blister,  and  the  other  horrid 
tools  of  the  surgeon's  craft.  The  assistant  stood  at  the  coun- 
ter, rolling  pills  and  mixing  medicines — a  sallow,  pasty-faced 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

youth  with  a  pair  of  swivel  eyes,  which  moved  with  indepen- 
dent action ;  a  young  man  who  walked  about  without  noise, 
and  worked  all  day  without  stopping,  yet  looked  discontented, 
perhaps*  because  he  was  compelled  to  taste  the  medicines,  and 
his  stomach  kicked  thereat.  The  door  was  always  open,  be- 
cause the  window  gave  little  light,  partly  because  it  was  never 
cleaned,  partly  because  there  was  a  shelf  with  bottles  before  it, 
and  partly  because  the  glass  was  full  of  bull's-eyes,  which  give 
strength,  no  doubt,  yet  keep  the  room  obscure.  At  the  end 
of  the  counter  was  the  stool  on  which  Mr.  Brinjes  sat  every 
morning,  in  his  gown  and  nightcap,  from  eight  o'clock  until 
half-past  twelve,  receiving  patients.  Before  him,  on  the  count- 
er, was  a  great  book,  containing,  I  now  suppose,  a  Repertory 
or  Collection  of  Instructions  concerning  Symptoms  of  Diseases 
and  Methods  of  Treatment ;  but  the  common  sort  always  sup- 
posed that  it  was  a  book  of  Spells,  and  to  be  the  means  by 
which  Mr.  Brinjes  was  enabled  to  communicate  with  a  certain 
Potentate,  who  helped  him  and  did  his  bidding,  at  what  price 
and  for  what  reward  these  people  freely  whispered  to  each 
other.  On  Sunday  morning  (this  must  have  been  a  bitter  bo- 
lus to  the  Evil  One)  Mr.  Brinjes  and  his  assistant  let  blood 
gratis  to  whoever  wished  for  that  wholesome  refreshment; 
and  every  morning  he  pulled  out  teeth  at  a  shilling  or  half  a 
crown  (according  to  the  means  of  the  customer),  his  assistant 
holding  the  patient  in  his  chair,  and  receiving  those  kicks  and 
cuffs  which  in  the  extremity  of  his  agony  the  sufferer  too  often 
deals  out. 

In  such  a  town  as  Deptford  it  is  natural  that  the  common 
people  should  resort  to  the  herb-woman  for  the  cure  of  their 
ailments.  It  was  not  until  she  had  failed  that  they  came  to  Mr. 
Brinjes,  and  then  with  doubt  whether  he  would  choose  to  treat 
them.  As  for  his  power  to  cure,  if  he  pleased,  there  was  no 
doubt  about  that.  It  was  whispered  that  he  knew  of  charms  by 
which  he  could  constrain  a  person,  even  in  the  misery  of  tooth- 
ache., to  fall  sound  asleep,  and  continue  asleep  while  Mr.  Brinjes 
would  take  out  a  tooth,  without  causing  him  to  awaken,  or  to 
feel  any  pain  whatever ;  but  these  things  we  may  not  believe, 
however  well  authenticated,  unless  we  would  seriously  accuse 
him  of  magic.  As  for  fevers,  rheumatisms,  difficulty  of  breath  - 
ing,  coughs,  scurvy,  and  the  other  afflictions  by  which  we  are 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY   WELL    THEN.  5 

reminded  that  this  is  but  a  transitory  world,  it  was  believed  by 
the  better  sort  of  Deptf  ord  that  there  was  no  physician  in  Lon- 
don itself  more  skilful  than  Mr.  Brinjes,  and  that  by  certain 
preparations,  the  secret  of  which  he  alone  knew,  and  had  learned 
in  his  voyages  in  many  foreign  parts,  especially  on  the  West 
Coast  of  Africa,  where  the  negroes  possess  many  strange  secrets 
of  nature,  he  had  acquired  a  singular  mastery  over  every  kind 
of  disease.  He  has  been  known,  as  I  myself  who  write  this 
history  can  testify  (it  was  in  the  case  of  Admiral  Sayer's  great 
toe),  to  relieve  a  man  in  one  hour  of  the  gout,  though  he  had 
been  roaring  for  a  fortnight  with  his  foot  tied  up  in  flannel. 
It  was  also  whispered  of  him  that  by  magic  or  witchcraft  Mr. 
Brinjes  could  bring  diseases  upon  those  who  offended  him,  and 
that  he  could  avert  all  the  misfortunes  to  which  mankind  are 
liable  in  shipwreck,  drowning,  wounds,  and  death.  But  it  is 
idle  to  repeat  the  things  which  were  said  of  him.  Certain  it  is 
that  he  possessed  wonderful  secrets  for  the  cure  of  disease,  how- 
ever he  came  by  them.  Warts  he  removed  by  looking  at  them, 
and  by  ? .  prophecy  that  they  would  be  gone  in  so  many  days ;  a 
sprained  ankle  he  would  set  at  ease  by  simply  rubbing  the  part 
with  his  open  hand  ;  sciatica,  lumbago,  pleurisy,  and  other  such 
disorders  he  healed  in  the  same  way,  foretelling  on  each  oc- 
casion how  long  it  would  be  before  the  malady  would  cease. 
Those  who  were  so  treated  declared  that  the  apothecary's  hand 
became  like  a  red-hot  iron  in  the  rubbing.  Rheumatism,  it 
was  certain,  he  cured  by  making  the  patient  carry  a  potato  in 
his  pocket ;  though  what  he  did,  if  he  did  anything,  to  the 
potato  first,  in  order  to  endow  it  with  this  virtue,  is  not  known. 
As  for  earache,  faceache,  toothache,  tic,  and  such  disorders,  it 
was  believed  that  he  could  order  their  removal  at  will.  Further, 
it  was  said  of  him  that  he  could,  also  at  will,  command  these 
diseases  to  seize  upon  a  man  and  torture  him.  How  he  did 
this,  no  one  can  explain ;  but  the  testimony  of  many  still  living 
proves  that  he  did  it.  I  pass  over  the  report  that  in  calling  these 
pains  to  seize  upon  a  man,  his  one  eye  glowed  like  a  red-hot 
coal  and  sent  forth  flashes  of  fire.  Such  rumors  show  only 
how  much  he  was  feared  and  respected  by  the  people.  They 
came  to  him  also  for  amulets  and  charms,  which  he  did  not 
always  refuse  to  give,  for  protection  of  those  who  carried  them 
from  drowning,  hanging,  burning,  the  shot  of  cannon,  and  the 


6  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY   WELL  THEN. 

stroke  of  steel.  It  is  true  that  his  amulets  were  simple  things ; 
we  cannot  understand  how  the  tooth  of  a  snake,  even  with  the 
poison  in  it,  can  avail  against  drowning  if  one  who  cannot  swim 
should  tumble  into  deep  water,  nor  how  the  head  of  a  frog 
wrapped  in  silk,  can,  without  any  other  magic,  protect  a  man 
against  the  gallows.  But  there  are  many  other  things  which 
everybody  believes  quite  as  difficult  to  explain ;  as,  for  instance, 
why  the  gall  of  the  barbel  causeth  blindness ;  why  cock  ale 
cureth  consumption ;  why  an  onion  hung  round  the  neck  of  a 
beast,  and  the  next  day  boiled  and  buried,  cureth  distemper  in 
cattle ;  or  why  the  finger  cut  from  the  hand  of  a  hanged  man 
taketh  away  a  wen.  Yet  these  are  in  the  nature  of  amulets  as 
much  as  any  of  those  prepared  by  Mr.  Brinjes.  At  this  time 
he  had  been  in  the  town  some  fifteen  years,  having  appeared 
one  day  about  the  year  1735.  Nobody  knew  who  he  was  or 
whence  he  came ;  his  parentage,  his  Christian  name,  his  birth- 
place, were  all  unknown.  He  never  spoke  of  any  relations, 
and  at  his  first  coming  he  seemed  to  be  as  old  as  now,  so  that 
some,  when  they  saw  the  sign  of  the  Silver  Mortar  pu*  up,  and 
the  gallipots  ranged  in  the  shop,  laughed  to  think  of  so  old  and 
decrepit  a  man  beginning  trade  as  an  apothecary. 

Whatever  his  age,  he  was  not  decrepit,  but  strong  and  hale, 
though  shrunken  in  figure,  with  a  wrinkled  skin  and  a  face  cov- 
ered with  lines  and  crow's-feet.  He  suffered  from  no  ailments, 
was  always  brisk  and  active,  and  had,  in  his  talk  and  understand- 
ing, no  apparent  touch  of  age.  Further,  it  soon  became  known 
that  here  was  a  man  who  could  effect  marvellous  cures,  so  that 
the  people  began  to  flock  to  him,  not  only  from  Deptford  and 
the  river -side,  where  he  first  courted  custom,  but  also  from 
Greenwich,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Redriffe,  Bermondsey,  and 
Southwark,  on  the  other. 

He  received  these  people  every  day — from  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing until  half  past  twelve — dressed  in  an  old  brown  coat,  gone 
into  holes  at  the  elbows,  or  even  without  any  coat  at  all ;  on 
his  head,  an  old  scratch  wig ;  and  on  his  feet,  slippers  tied 
with  tape.  But  slovenly  as  was  his  dress,  and  unworthy  the 
dignity  of  a  physician,  he  was  sharp  and  quick  with  the  patients, 
telling  them  plainly,  while  he  gave  them  medicine,  whether 
they  would  recover  or  when  they  would  die,  and  whether  he 
could  help  them  or  not.  At  the  stroke  of  half-past  twelve  he 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  7 

got  off  his  stool  and  retired  to  his  parlor,  where,  with  his  own 
hand,  he  every  day  fried  or  griddled  a  great  piece  of  beefsteak, 
with  a  mess  of  onions,  carrots,  and  other  vegetables,  and  pres- 
ently devoured  it,  with  a  tankard  of  black  beer,  choosing  to  do 
everything  with  his  own  hand,  even  to  the  filling  of  his  kettle 
and  the  washing  of  his  dishes,  rather  than  have  a  woman-ser- 
vant in  the  place.  This  done,  he  made  up  the  fire,  put  away 
his  plates,  settled  himself  among  his  pillows,  and  fell  fast 
asleep.  Thus  he  continued  for  two  or  three  hours,  no  one  dar- 
ing to  disturb  him  or  to  make  the  least  noise.  When,  on  this 
day,  he  began  to  move,  stretching  out  first  one  leg,  and  then  the 
other,  turning  over  on  his  back,  and  fidgeting  with  his  hands, 
the  elder  boy  nodded  to  the  younger,  who  reached  a  bundle  of 
papers  from  the  topmost  shelf,  and  laid  them  on  the  table  as  if 
in  readiness.  This  done,  they  waited. 

The  old  man  yawned,  sighed,  and  opened  his  remaining  eye 
— 'twas  a  pale  blue  eye  of  amazing  keenness  and  brightness. 
Then  he  sat  up  suddenly  with  a  start,  and  looked  about  him 
with  a  quick  suspicious  glance,  as  if  he  had  been  sleeping  in 
some  place  where  there  were  wild  animals  to  fear  or  savage 
men.  You  could  then  perceive  that  his  features  were  sharp, 
and  apparently  not  much  altered  by  his  years,  his  chin  being 
long  and  pointed,  his  lips  firm,  and  his  nose  straight,  as  if  he 
were  a  masterful  man  who  would  have  his  way.  As  for  his  re- 
maining eye  (no  one  ever  learned  where  the  sight  of  the  other 
had  been  lost),  though  it  was  so  bright,  it  had  a  quick  and 
watchful  expression,  such  as  may  be  perceived  in  the  eyes  of 
those  creatures  who  both  hunt  and  are  hunted.  You  will  not 
see  this  look  in  the  eyes  of  Dido,  the  lioness  of  the  Tower, 
because  the  lion  hunts  but  is  never  hunted.  Being  reassured 
as  to  tigers  or  fierce  Indians,  Mr.  Brinjes  rose  from  the  chair, 
and  as  if  not  yet  wholly  awake,  yet  already  conscious,  he  took 
a  glass  and  half  filled  it  with  rum,  then,  with  the  utmost  care 
and  nicety  (your  drinkers  of  rum  punch  care  very  little  how 
much  rum  is  in  the  glass,  but  are  greatly  afraid  of  putting  in 
too  much  of  the  other  components),  added  sugar,  lemon,  and 
water.  This  done,  he  stirred  the  contents,  rolled  it  about  in 
the  glass,  and  drank  half  of  it. 

"  I  have  again  returned,"  he  said,  "  to  the  world  of  life.  To 
all  of  us  who  are  old,  when  we  close  our  eyes  in  sleep  we  know 


8  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

not  whether  we  shall  not  keep  them  closed  in  death,  which  some- 
times thus  surprises  those  who  have  lived  long.  But  I  have  re- 
turned— aha ! — and  with  reasonable  prospect  of  another  even- 
ing of  tobacco  and  punch."  Here  he  sipped  his  liquor.  "I 
take  this  glass  of  punch,  boys,"  he  explained,  "  for  the  good 
of  the  stomach,  and  the  prevention  of  ill  humors  and  vapors. 
Otherwise  these  might  rise  to  the  brain,  which  is  a  part  of 
man's  mechanism  more  delicate  than  any  other,  and  as  easily 
put  off  the  balance  as  the  mainspring  of  a  watch."  Here  he 
drank  again,  but  slowly,  and  by  sips,  as  becomes  one  who  loves 
his  drink.  "  I  am  now  old ;  when  a  man  is  old  he  is  fortu- 
nate if  he  can  breathe  free,  sleep  sound,  walk  upright,  eat  his 
dinner,  and  still  drink  his  punch.  Some  men  there  are,  not  so 
old  as  myself — no,  not  by  ten  years — who  fetch  their  breath 
with  difficulty,  whereas  I  breathe  freely ;  others  are  troubled 
and  cannot  sleep  for  racking  pains,  whereas  I  have  none ;  and 
others  cannot  eat  strong  meats,  and  would  die — poor  devils ! — 
of  a  bowl  of  punch.  Better  be  dead  than  live  like  that ;  better 
lie  buried  with  a  mile  of  blue  water  over  your  head,  and  the 
whales  flopping  around  your  grave  on  the  sea-weed.  There 
can  be  no  more  comfortable  and  quiet  lying  than  the  bottom 
of  the  sea."  He  shook  his  head  solemnly.  "When  a  man 
cannot  any  longer  fight  and  make  love,  there  is  but  one  thing 
left  to  rejoice  his  heart."  He  finished  the  glass.  "  And  when 
he  cannot  drink,  let  him  die." 

He  sat  down  again  in  his  great  chair ;  but  he  sat  upright, 
looking  about  him,  now  thoroughly  awake  and  alert. 

"  In  sleep,"  he  said,  "  it  is  as  if  one  were  already  dead ;  awake, 
it  is  as  if  one  could  not  die.  Ha !  Death  is  impossible.  The 
blood  it  runs  as  strong,  the  pulse  it  beats  as  steady,  as  when  I 
was  a  boy  of  thirty.  Why,  I  am  young  still !  I  am  full  of 
life !  Give  me  fifty  years  more — only  a  poor,  short  fifty  years 
— what  is  it  when  the  time  has  gone  ? — and  I  will  make,  look 
you,  such  a  medicine  as  shall  keep  a  man  alive  forever !  It  will 
be  done  some  day,  alas !  when  I  am  gone.  It  will  be  too  late 
for  me,  and  I  must  die.  But  not  yet — not  yet.  Oh !  we  are 
born  too  soon — a  hundred  years  and  more  too  soon.  When 
a  man  is  old  he  is  apt  to  feel  the  near  presence  of  Death. 
Not,  mind  you,  when  he  is  asleep,  or  when  he  is  awake,  but 
when  he  is  between  the  two.  Then  he  sees  the  dart  aimed  at 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  9 

his  heart,  and  the  scythe  ready  to  cut  him  down,  and  the  bony 
fingers  clutching  at  his  throat.  It  is  as  if  life  were  slipping 
from  him,  just  as  the  pirate's  plank  slips  under  the  weight  of 
the  prisoner  who  has  to  walk  upon  it." 

"  When  a  man's  time  comes,"  said  Jack,  with  wisdom  bor- 
rowed from  his  friends  at  Trinity  Hospital — "  when  a  man's 
time  comes,  down  he  goes." 

"  Ay.  It's  easy  talking  when  you  are  young,  and  your  time 
hasn't  come  by  many  a  day ;  the  words  drop  out  glib,  and 
seem  to  mean  nothing.  Wait,  my  lad — wait  till  you  have  had 
your  day.  To  every  man  his  day.  First  the  fat  time,  then 
the  lean  time ;  or  else  it's  first  the  lean  time,  then  the  fat  time. 
For  most,  old  age  is  the  lean  time.  But  the  world  is  full  of 
justice,  and  there  is  always  a  fat  time  in  every  man's  life. 
When  there's  peace  upon  the  seas,  the  merchantman  sails  free 
and  happy,  buying  skins  and  ivory,  spices  and  precious  woods, 
for  glass  beads  and  cotton.  So  trade  prospers.  And  then  the 
king's  sailors  and  marines  and  the  privateers  must  needs  turn 
smugglers,  and  so  find  their  way  to  the  gallows.  Then  cometh 
war  again,  and  the  honest  fellows  have  another  turn  with  fight- 
ing and  taking  of  prizes  and  cutting  out  of  convoys.  Yes, 
boys,  the  world  is  full  of  justice,  did  we  but  rightly  consider ; 
and  every  one  doth  get  his  chance.  As  for  you,  Bess,  my  girl, 
it  shall  be  a  brave  lover,  in  the  days  when  thou  shalt  be  a  love- 
ly girl  and  a  goddess.  As  for  you,  boys — well — and  presently 
you  will  become  old  men  like  unto  me."  He  sighed  heavily. 
"  And  then  " — he  took  the  saucepan  from  the  hob,  stirred  it 
about,  and'smelled  the  stuff  that  was  simmering  in  it — "  I  doubt 
if  this  mixture —  Children,  we  are  all  born  a  hundred  years 
too  soon — a  hundred  years  at  least.  Yet  if  I  had  but  fifty 
years  before  me,  I  think  I  could  find  the  secret  to  stay  old  age 
and  put  off  natural  decay.  The  Coromantyns  are  said  to  have 
the  secret,  but  they  keep  it  to  themselves ;  and  I  have  ques- 
tioned Philadelphy,  who  is  a  Mandingo,  in  vain.  Well " — 
again  he  sighed,  as  he  put  back  his  saucepan — "  I  have  slept, 
and  I  am  alive  again,  with  another  evening  before  me,  and  more 
punch.  Let  us  be  thankful.  Jack,  unroll  the  charts,  and  let 
me  look  upon  the  world  again." 

The  charts,  which  the  younger  boy  had  already  laid  upon 
the  table,  were  stained  and  thumb-marked  parchments,  origi- 
1* 


10  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

nally  drawn  by  some  Spanish  hand,  for  the  names  were  all  in 
Spanish ;  but  they  had  been  much  altered  and  corrected  by  a 
later  hand — perhaps  that  of  Mr.  Brinjes  himself.  They  showed 
the  Atlantic  and  the  Indian  oceans,  together  with  a  map  of  the 
Eastern  Islands  and  the  unknown  Magellanica,  or  Terra  Aus- 
tralis.  The  last-named  was  traversed  by  several  lines  in  blue 
ink,  showing  the  routes  of  voyagers  both  early  and  recent,  each 
with  a  name  written  above  it,  as  Magellan,  1520;  Francis 
D'Ovalle,  1582  ;  Mendana,  1595  ;  Drake,  1577  ;  Candish,  1586  ; 
Oliver  Noort,  1599;  Le  Maire,  1615;  Tasman,  1642;  John 
Cook,  1683;  Woodes  Rodgers,  1708 ;  Clipperton,  1719;  Shel- 
vocke,  at  the  same  time.  There  was  another  route  laid  down 
across  the  ocean,  much  more  devious  than  any  of  the  others, 
and  without  name,  and  marked  in  red  ink. 

When  these  maps  were  spread  out  upon  the  table,  Mr.  Brinjes 
rose  and  stood  gazing  upon  them,  as  if,  by  the  mere  contem- 
plation of  the  coast  lines,  he  was  enabled  actually  to  see  the 
places  which  he  had  visited  or  heard  of.  There  was  no  place 
in  the  whole  world  that  is  visited  by  ships  (because  I  do  not 
pretend  that  Mr.  Brinjes  knew  the  interior  of  the  great  conti- 
nents) whereof  he  could  not  speak  as  from  personal  knowledge, 
describing  its  appearance,  the  character  of  the  people,  the 
soundings,  and  the  nature  of  the  port  or  roadstead. 

But  mostly  Mr.  Brinjes  loved  to  talk  of  pirates,  rovers,  or  ad- 
venturers, whether  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  when  they  had 
a  golden  time  indeed,  or  of  our  own  time,  which  has  seen  many 
of  these  gentry ;  though  now,  instead  of  receiving  knighthood, 
as  was  formerly  the  custom,  they  are  generally  taken  ashore 
and  hoisted  on  a  gibbet.  Thus  Mr.  Brinjes  would  lay  his  fore- 
finger on  the  island  of  Madagascar,  and  tell  us  of  Captain  Avery 
and  his  settlement  on  the  north  of  this  great  island,  where 
every  one  of  his  men  became  like  a  little  sultan  or  king,  each 
with  a  troop  of  slaves,  and  being  no  better  than  pagans,  every 
man  with  a  seraglio  of  black  wives.  For  aught  anybody  knows 
to  the  contrary,  they  or  their  sons  are  living  on  the  island  in 
splendor  to  this  day,  though  their  famous  captain  hath  long 
since  been  dead.  Or  he  would  point  out  the  island  of  Provi- 
dence, in  the  Bahamas,  where  there  was  formerly  a  rendezvous, 
which  continued  for  many  years,  of  those  who  combined  to- 
gether to  prey  upon  the  Spanish  commerce.  "  And  think  not, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WEtL    THEN.  11 

boys,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  solemnly,  "  that  to  sail  in  search  of  the 
great  plate  ships  can  be  called  piracy,  for  pirates  are  the  com- 
mon enemies  of  all  flags,  and  must  be  hanged  when  they  are 
taken  prisoners ;  whereas  he  who  takes  or  sinks  a  Spanish  ves- 
sel performs  a  meritorious  action,  and  one  that  he  will  remem- 
ber with  gratitude  upon  his  death-bed,  since  they  are  a  nation 
more  bloodthirsty,  cruel,  and  avaricious  than  any  other,  and 
papists  to  boot.  It  is  true  that  there  were  some  of  those  who 
sailed  from  Providence  that  took  other  ships,  of  whom  Major 
Bonnet  was  one.  Boys,  I  knew  the  major  well.  He  was  a 
gentleman  of  good  family  from  Barbadoes,  and  I  cannot  but 
think  that  he  was  unlawfully  hanged,  the  evidence  being  sub- 
orned. A  man  of  kindly  and  pleasing  manners,  who  loved  the 
bowl  and  a  song,  and  was  greatly  loved  by  all  his  crew  and 
those  who  knew  him.  But  he  is  gone  now,  and  those  like  unto 
him  as  well,  so  that  the  Spaniard  sails  the  Atlantic  in  peace, 
though  we  have  robbed  him  of  some  of  his  dominions.  Alas ! 
what  things  the  Spanish  Main  hath  witnessed !  what  deeds  of 
daring,  and  what  sufferings  !" 

Then  he  pushed  this  chart  aside,  and  considered  that  which 
showed  the  West  Coast  of  Africa,  a  part  of  the  world  which  he 
regarded  with  a  particular  admiration,  though  I  have  always 
understood  that  it  is  full  of  fevers  and  diseases  of  a  deadly 
kind.  He  knew,  indeed,  all  the  harbors,  creeks,  river  mouths, 
and  other  places  from  Old  Calabar  to  the  Gambia,  where  such 
notorious  desperadoes  as  Captain  Thatch,  otherwise  called 
Blackbeard,  or  as  Captain  Bartholomew  Roberts,  made  their 
rendezvous,  where  they  refitted,  and  whence  they  sailed  to 
plunder  the  merchantmen  of  all  countries.  These  men  Mr. 
Brinjes  knew  well,  and  spoke  of  them  as  if  they  had  been 
friends  of  his  own,  and  especially  the  latter.  I  know  not  in 
what  manner  he  acquired  this  knowledge  of  a  man  who  was 
certainly  a  most  profligate  villain.  He  it  was  whose  squadron 
of  three  ships  was  destroyed  by  Captain  Sir  Chaloner  Ogle,  of 
the  Swallow,  in  the  year  1722,  the  pirate  himself  being  killed 
in  the  first  broadside,  and  fifty-two  of  his  men  afterwards  hung 
in  chains  along  the  coast  near  Cape  Coast  Castle. 

"  Boys,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  those  who  know  not  the  West 
Coast  of  Africa  know  not  what  it  is  to  live.  WThat?  Here, 
there  are  magistrates  and  laws ;  there,  every  man  does  what  he 


12  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

pleases.  Here,  the  rich  take  all ;  there,  all  is  divided.  Here, 
men  go  to  law ;  there,  men  fight  it  out.  What  do  they  know 
here  of  the  tierce  passions  which  burn  in  men's  hearts  under 
the  African  sun  ?  There  is  summer  all  the  year  round ;  there 
are  fruits  which  you  can  never  taste  ;  there  are — but  you  would 
not  understand.  How  long  ago  since  I  have  seen  those  green 
shores  and  wooded  hills,  and  watched  the  black  girls  lying  in 
the  sun,  and  took  my  punch  with  the  merry  blades  who  now 
are  dead  and  gone  ?  Strange  that  the  world  should  be  so  full 
of  fine  places,  and  we  should  be  content  to  live  in  this  land  of 
fog  and  cold !" 

Then  he  pushed  this  chart  away  also,  and  took  another,  that 
of  the  great  Pacific  Ocean,  marked,  as  I  have  said,  with  half  a 
dozen  routes,  and  especially  by  a  broad  red  line,  without  a 
name  or  date.  When  Mr.  Brinjes  laid  his  finger  on  this  route, 
he  became  serious  and  thoughtful. 

"It  is  forty  years " — he  began — " forty  years  since  I  sailed 
upon  these  seas.  Of  all  the  crew,  doth  any  survive,  save  me 
alone  ?  Forty  years  !  The  men  were  not  so  fierce  as  those  on 
the  West  Coast — the  air  is  milder — they  would  rest  and  sleep 
in  the  shade  rather  than  fight.  Forty  years  ago  !" 

The  boys  were  silent,  till  he  should  choose  to  tell  us  more. 

"On  board  that  ship  I  was  rated  as  surgeon,  and  at  first 
had  plenty  to  do  sewing  up  wounds  and  healing  broken  heads ; 
for  though  there  was  a  rule  against  fighting,  it  was  a  reck- 
less company  of  rum-drinking,  quarrelsome,  fighting  devils  as 
ever  trod  the  deck.  We  had  music  on  board :  two  horns,  till 
one  fell  overboard,  two  violins,  and  a  Welsh  harp.  In  the 
evening,  when  there  was  no  fighting,  there  was  music  and  danc- 
ing. 'Twas  a  happy  barky.  It  was  a  merchantman,  and  we 
shipped  our  crew  and  fitted  out  at  Kingston  first  and  Provi- 
dence next." 

"  Where  the  pirates  used  to  assemble  ?"  said  Jack. 

"True.  The  crew  were  mostly  rovers.  What  then?  If 
you  venture  into  the  Pacific  you  must  needs  carry  a  fighting 
crew.  We  had  plenty  of  arms  and  ammunition,  and  not  a  man 
on  board  but  had  been  in  a  dozen  actions  by  sea  and  land.  But 
only  a  merchantman." 

Jack  shook  his  head,  as  if  there  were  doubts  in  his  mind. 
Then  he  laughed. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  13 

Mr.  Brinjes  laid  his  finger  on  the  red  line  where  it  began  at 
Providence  Island. 

"  Forty  years  ago.  It  was  a  voyage  among  seas  where 
there's  never  a  chart ;  among  reefs  and  rocks  not  laid  down, 
and  along  shores  no  sailors  knew.  The  end  of  the  voyage  was 
disastrous,  but  the  beginning  promised  well,  for  the  men  were 
full  of  heart,  if  ever  men  were,  and  the  prize  we  were  after  was 
worth  taking." 

"  Prize  ?"  said  Jack.     "  For  a  merchantman  ?" 

"  Merchantman  she  was,  this  side  Cape  Horn.  I  only  meant 
this  side.  When  you  double  the  cape,  that  is  another  matter. 
A  man  in  those  seas  sails  as  happy  under  the  Jolly  Roger  as 
under  the  Union-Jack.  A  merchantman  she  was,  and  built 
at  Bristol,  christened  the  King  Solomon,  four  hundred  tons ; 
and  when  we  sailed  she  carried  twenty -two  long  nine-pounders 
and  two  three-pounders,  with  a  crew  of  one  hundred  and  sev- 
enty men,  besides  a  dozen  or  so  of  negro  grummets.  Don't 
you  forget,  my  lad,  there's  only  two  flags  in  those  seas — the 
Spaniard  and  the  Jolly  Roger.  Take  your  choice,  therefore." 
He  paused  to  let  that  choice  be  taken.  "  We  sailed  through 
Magellan's  Straits,  taking  six  weeks  over  the  job,  what  with 
contrary  winds  and  storms.  When  we  got  out  of  that  place — 
which,  I  take  it,  is  the  worst  navigation  in  the  world — we 
steered  nearly  due  north  for  Juan  Fernandez,  where  the  Span- 
iards go  from  the  South  American  ports  to  fish.  Here  it  is 
on  the  chart."  His  finger  was  following  the  red  track.  "  A 
mighty  pretty  place  it  is.  This  is  where  Woodes  Rodgers  set 
ashore  one  of  his  men  and  left  him  alone.  After  watering, 
we  sailed  away,  still  north,  to  the  Galapagos,  where  the  pirates 
rendezvous." 

"  They  are  pirates  then,  after  all  ?"  Jack  interrupted. 

"  The  Spaniards  call  them  such,  whereas  if  they  do  fly  the 
black  flag,  it  is  only  to  strike  more  terror  into  the  enemy, 
and  make  them  quicker  to  cry  for  quarter.  Pirates,  were  we  ? 
Well,  pirates  or  not,  there  was  no  man  on  board  that  craft  but 
was  an  honest  Englishman  by  birth.  At  Galapagos  Islands  we 
laid  up  to  scrape  and  tallow  the  vessel,  and  to  cure  the  scurvy, 
which  had  already  broken  out,  with  the  limes  and  oranges  and 
bananas  which  grow  wild  there,  as  well  as  the  tobacco  plant. 
The  pigs  run  wild  there,  too ;  and  if  the  wells  only  ran  rum  as 


14  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

well  as  water,  one  might  as  well  be  in  heaven  at  once ;  and 
there  would  be  no  need  for  the  sailor  to  put  to  sea  any  more, 
nor  any  wisdom  in  leaving  those  islands."    He  sighed,  thinking 
of  pleasant  days  in  the  Galapagos.    "  But  we  were  not  cruising 
in  these  seas  for  pleasure,  and  we  had  our  work  to  do.    Where- 
fore we  made  haste  and  got  to  sea  again.     What  were  we 
cruising  for  ?     Why,  my  lads,  in  hopes  of  coming  across  the 
great  Spanish  galleon,  which  goes  twice  every  year  from  Ma- 
nilla to  Acapulco  and  back  laden  with  treasure,  so  that  every 
man  on  board,  could  we  take  that  ship,  would  be  made  for  life. 
"  When  we  left  the  Galapagos  every  man's  heart  was  light, 
and  there  was  nothing  on  board  but  drinking,  singing,  and 
gambling,  with  a  fair  wind,  and  the  ship  taut  and  trim,  and 
within  a  few  days  of  the  Spaniard's  course.     He  sails  these 
seas  as  if  they  were  his  own,  with  never  a  thought  of  trouble 
or  meeting  an  enemy.     We  had  fair  weather  for  ten  days, 
making,  at  a  guess,  a  hundred  and  eighty  knots  a  day  on  a 
nor'west  course ;  so  that,  after  a  week  or  so,  we  were  in  the 
latitude  of  Acapulco,  and,  according  to  my  observations,  two 
hundred  miles  west  of  that  port,  that  is  to  say,  almost  in  the 
track  of  the  galleons,  which  sail,  as  is  well  known,  in  an  even 
course  about  lat.  13  N.     And  for  why?     If  you  set  sail  from 
Manilla — here,"  he  pointed  out  that  distant  island  on  the  chart, 
"  through  the  Strait  of  Mindovo,  and  past  Cape  Espiritu  Santo, 
you  have  got  between  the  Ladrones  and  Acapulco,  which  is 
close  upon  two  thousand  knots,  nothing  but  blue  water.     If 
any  other  nation  besides  the  Spanish  held  these   seas,  they 
would  have  been  everywhere  navigated  long  ago.     But  these 
lubbers  care  for  nothing  but  to  keep  out  of  danger,  wherefore 
they  sail  where  there  are  no  islands.     Sometimes,  by  reason  of 
contrary  winds,  and  the  compass,  which  veers  about  in  these 
waters  as  if  the  devil  had  it,  these  ships  are  blown  north  and 
south.     I  have  conversed  with  Spanish  sailors  who  had  been 
thus  driven  north,  and  they  reported  open  seas,  though  the 
charts  and  maps  do  still  lay  down  a  continent  between  Asia 
and  America. 

"  It  is  a  most  terrible  voyage,  full  of  dangers,  on  account  of 
the  tempests  which  blow  there,  and  because  the  crews  have  to 
live  so  long  on  salted  provisions  and  bad  water,  whereby  many 
grievous  diseases  are  engendered,  of  which  I  learned  some- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  15 

thing.  There  is,  for  instance,  that  disease  which  the  Spaniards 
call  the  *  Lobillo,'  which  doth  commonly  fall  upon  men  who 
have  been  living  at  sea  for  many  weeks  upon  this  diet.  I  do 
not  know  the  remedies,  if  any  there  be,  for  this  affliction,  where- 
by the  body  swells  up  like  a  bladder  which  is  blown  out,  and 
the  patient  falls  to  prattling  and  babbling  until  he  dies.  There 
is  also  what  they  call  the  Dutch  Disease,  which  attacks  the 
gums,  and  is,  I  take  it,  nothing  but  scurvy,  and  can  only  be 
cured  by  being  set  ashore.  Then  there  is  an  intolerable  itch- 
ing of  the  whole  body,  caused  by  the  saltness  of  the  beef  and 
of  the  air.  For  this  there  is  no  remedy  but  patience  and  limes, 
when  these  can  be  procured.  There  are  insects  also,  which  the 
Spaniards  call '  Gorgojos,'  which  are  said  to  be  bred  in  the  bis- 
cuit, and  creep  into  the  body,  under  the  skin,  whence  they  are 
difficult  to  dislodge,  and  do  itch  intolerably  day  and  night,  so 
that  some  have  been  known  to  go  mad  with  the  discomfort  of 
it,  and  have  leaped  overboard. 

"  When,  therefore,  we  were  in  the  latitude  where  we  might  ex- 
pect any  day  to  see  a  sail — every  sail  being  a  Spanish  ship  and 
every  Spanish  ship  a  rich  galleon — a  reward  was  offered  to  him 
who  would  first  spy  a  sail.  But  here  we  were  unlucky,  for  a  hur- 
ricane fell  upon  us,  drove  us  off  our  course,  and  for  four  days  we 
scudded,  looking  for  nothing  else  but  destruction,  being  too  low  in 
the  waist  and  too  high  in  the  stern  for  such  weather.  However, 
by  the  Lord's  help,  the  storm  at  length  abated,  but  not  before  we 
were  driven  a  long  way  north  of  our  course,  and  in  sight  of  the 
great  island  named  California."  He  covered  it  with  his  thumb. 
"  Nobody  hath  yet  circumnavigated  this  island ;  but  it  is  re- 
ported mountainous  and  sterile.  Yet — Lord!  what  a  place 
for  rovers  when  they  get  the  sense  to  make  here  a  settlement 
for  the  annoyance  of  the  Spaniard !  Madagascar  itself  was  not 
more  plainly  marked  out  by  Providence  for  the  use  of  rovers. 
I  am  old  now,  or  else  would  I  plant  a  colony  myself,  with  a 
fleet  of  half  a  dozen  frigates  and  a  few  fast-sailing  sloops,  and 
so  destroy  the  Spanish  trade  of  the  Pacific.  No  European  sail, 
I  take  it,  hath  gone  farther  north." 

Indeed,  the  coast  line  at  this  point  was  dotted  to  show  that 
it  was  conjectural ;  it  ran  straight  across  the  Pacific,  in  the  line 
of  latitude  35  N.,  to  join  the  coast  of  China. 

"  The  storm  then  abating,  we  repaired  damages,  and  set  sail 


16  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

again,  designing  to  shape  our  course  southward,  with  the  view 
of  getting  once  more  into  the  enemy's  course.  That  night,  I  re- 
member, the  light  of  Saint  Elmo  showed  upon  the  foretop,  at 
which  we  greatly  rejoiced,  as  a  certain  sign  and  promise  of  fair 
weather,  and  every  man  saluted  it  mannerly,  as  they  used  in 
the  Mediterranean.  On  the  sixth  day  after  the  storm  we  sighted 
an  island  not  laid  down  on  any  chart ;  but  we  touched  not  at  it. 
Three  days  later,  the  sea  having  been  as  smooth  as  the  pool  of 
the  Thames,  we  made  land  again.  This  time  it  was  the  island 
of  Donna  Maria  Laxara,  so  called  after  a  Spanish  lady,  who  here 
leaped  overboard  and  drowned  herself  for  love.  But  mark  the 
ways  of  Providence  !  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  tempest,  which 
drove  us  off  our  course,  what  happened  afterwards  never  would 
have  happened." 

"  What  did  happen  ?" 

"A  strange  thing.  The  strangest  thing  that  ever  you  heard 
of.  If  you  want  to  be  rich,  Jack,  my  lad,  I  will  some  day  teach 
you  how ;  and  that  in  the  easiest  way  you  can  imagine.  If  I 
live — alas !" 

"  What  way  ?     Tell  me  now." 

But  Mr.  Brinjes  would  tell  no  more.  He  continued  gazing 
at  the  chart,  and  following  an  imaginary  course  with  his  fore- 
finger, as  if  he  loved  the  recollection  of  that  voyage,  even  though 
the  end  of  it  had  been  disastrous.  Then  he  pushed  it  from  him 
with  a  sigh. 

"  Forty  years  ago,  it  was,  boys.     Forty  years  ago." 

It  was  in  this  way,  among  others,  that  Jack  acquired  the  knowl- 
edge of  geography  and  the  thirst  which  continually  grew  greater 
for  voyaging  among  the  strange  and  unknown  parts  of  the  hab- 
itable world.  In  the  end,  as  you  shall  hear,  no  one  went  farther 
afield  or  had  more  adventures. 


CHAPTER   II. 

HOW   JACK    CAME    TO    DEPTFORD. 

OF  these  two  boys,  one — namely,  Jack  Easterbrook — was  not 
a  native  born  of  Deptf  ord,  but  of  Gosport.  And  since  it  is  his 
history  that  has  to  be  related,  it  is  well  that  the  manner  of 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  17 

his  coming  and  the  nature  of  his  early  life  should  be  first  set 
forth. 

On  a  certain  warm  summer  afternoon  in  the  year  of  grace 
seventeen  hundred  and  forty-four,  when  I,  who  write  this  his- 
tory, was  but  a  child  of  seven,  and  Castilla  six  (we  are  now  near- 
ing  threescore  years,  and  on  the  downward  slope  of  life),  there 
sat  beneath  the  shade  of  a  great  walnut-tree,  on  a  smooth  bowl- 
ing-green, two  gentlemen  and  a  lady,  the  former  on  a  rustic 
bench  of  twisted  and  misshappen  branches  or  roots,  and  the  lat- 
ter in  an  elbow-chair.  The  lady,  who  had  a  small  lace  cap  on 
her  head,  and  wore  a  laced  apron,  held  a  book  in  her  hands ; 
but  the  hands  and  book  lay  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  were  closed. 
The  two  gentlemen  were  taking  an  afternoon  pipe  of  tobacco. 
One  of  them — this  was  Rear  Admiral  Sayer — was  at  this  time 
some  fifty-five  years  of  age.  He  wore  a  blue  coat  with  gold 
buttons,  but  it  was  without  the  famous  white  facings  which  his 
majesty  King  George  the  Second  afterwards  commanded  for  the 
uniform  of  his  naval  officers ;  his  right  leg  had  been  lost  in 
action,  and  was  replaced  by  a  wooden  leg  now  stuck  out  straight 
before  him  as  he  sat  on  the  bench.  He  had  also  lost  his  left 
arm,  and  one  sleeve  of  his  coat  was  empty.  He  wore  a  full 
wig  of  George  the  First's  time ;  his  face  was  full,  his  cheeks 
red,  and  his  eyebrows  thick  and  fierce,  yet  his  eyes  were  kindly. 
There  was  a  scar  across  his  forehead,  which  a  Moorish  scimitar 
had  laid  bare. 

His  companion  wore  the  wig  and  cassock  of  a  clergyman ;  he 
was,  in  fact,  the  Vicar  of  St.  Paul's,  Deptford.  At  the  back  of 
the  bowling-green  stood  the  house — of  modern  erection — with 
a  pediment  of  stone,  and  pilasters,  and  a  stone  porch,  very  fine  ; 
on  either  side  of  the  house  was  the  garden,  filled  with  fruit-trees 
and  beds  for  vegetables.  The  garden  was  surrounded  by  a 
brick  wall,  older  than  the  house,  covered  with  lichen,  stone-crop, 
wall-pellitory,  yellow  wallflowers,  and  long  grasses.  The  house 
and  garden  were  protected  by  great  iron  gates,  within  which 
marched,  all  day  long,  an  old  negro  in  the  admiral's  livery,  and 
wearing  a  cockade,  armed  with  a  cutlass.  A  small  carronade 
stood  beside  the  gates,  for  the  purpose  of  announcing  sunrise 
and  sunset ;  and  there  was  a  mast,  with  standing  gear  and  yards 
complete,  at  the  head  of  which  floated  the  Union-Jack.  Two 
children  were  playing  with  the  bowls  on  the  grass ;  and  in  a 


18  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

chair,  so  placed  that  the  hot  sunshine  could  fall  with  the  great- 
est effect  upon  her  face,  there  sat  a  negress,  already  old,  a  red 
cotton  handkerchief  twisted  round  her  head,  and  in  her  lap 
some  knitting.  But  Philadelphy,  like  her  mistress,  was  sound 
asleep. 

It  was  a  sleepy  afternoon.  The  drones  and  the  bumblebees 
— "  dumbledores "  we  called  them — buzzed  lazily  about  the 
flowers ;  the  doves  cooed  sleepily  from  the  dove-cot ;  there  was 
a  hen  not  far  off  which  expressed  her  satisfaction  with  the 
weather  and  her  brood  by  a  continual  and  comfortable  "  took — 
took — took ;"  the  great  dog  lay  asleep  at  the  admiral's  foot,  the 
cat  was  asleep  beside  it ;  from  the  trees  there  came,  now  and 
then,  the  contented  note  of  a  blackbird ;  and  the  flag  at  the 
mast,  which  was  rigged  within  the  iron  gates,  hung  in  folds, 
flapping  lazily  in  the  light  air.  The  two  children  played  for 
the  most  part  in  silence,  or  else  in  whispers,  so  as  not  to  awaken 
Philadelphy.  The  two  gentlemen  smoked  their  tobacco  in  si- 
lence— it  was  not  a  day  for  talking;  besides,  they  saw  each 
other  nearly  every  day,  and  therefore  each  knew  the  other's  sen- 
timents, and  there  was  no  room  for  discussion. 

Suddenly  there  were  heard  footsteps  outside,  and  just  as  one 
awakes  out  of  a  dream,  so  all  started  and  became  instantly 
wide-awake.  Madam  took  up  her  book,  the  admiral  straight- 
ened his  back,  the  vicar  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and 
the  children  ran  to  the  gates,  which  Cudjo,  the  negro,  threw 
wide  open,  a  grin  of  welcome  on  his  lips.  Then  there  appeared 
a  boy,  dressed  in  a  blue  coat  not  made  for  him,  and  too  long  in 
the  sleeves,  worn  and  shabby,  dusty  with  travel,  with  brass  but- 
tons ;  his  knitted  stockings  were  torn,  showing  his  bare  legs ; 
he  wore  a  common  speckled  shirt  like  the  watermen's  children  ; 
on  his  head  was  a  little  three-cornered  hat,  cocked  in  nautical 
fashion.  He  strutted  proudly  across  the  grass,  regardless  of 
his  rags,  with  as  much  importance  as  if  he  had  been  a  full- 
blown midshipman.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  never  lost  to 
this  day  the  sense  of  his  superiority  to  myself  and  the  rest 
of  mankind.  Castilla  makes  the  same  confession.  Like  my- 
self, she  owns  that,  child  as  she  then  was,  she  felt  her  inferiority 
to  a  boy  so  masterful.  He  was  at  this  time,  and  always,  a  sin- 
gularly handsome  boy,  tall  and  big  for  his  age,  his  head  thrown 
back,  his  brown  eyes  full  of  fire,  and  his  hand  at  all  times  ready 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  19 

to  become  a  fist.  His  hair  was  long,  and  lay  in  curls,  and  un- 
tied, upon  his  shoulders.  After  him  walked  the  negro  who  had 
brought  him  from  Gosport,  and  now  carried  on  his  shoulder  a 
box  containing  all  the  boy's  worldly  goods.  They  consisted  of 
a  toy  ship,  carved  for  him  by  some  sailor  at  Gosport,  a  pistol 
which  had  been  his  father's,  his  mother's  Bible,  a  Church  prayer- 
book,  and  a  knife.  This  was  all  the  inheritance  of  the  poor 
boy.  As  the  servant  bore  this  precious  box  through  the  gates, 
he  knocked  the  corner  against  the  rails. 

"  Steady,"  said  the  boy,  turning  sharply  round,  "  steady  with 
the  kit,  ye  lubber  !" 

The  first  lieutenant  himself  could  not  have  admonished  a  man 
more  haughtily.  Then  he  halted,  and  took  a  leisurely  observa- 
tion of  the  scene.  Presently  he  espied  the  admiral,  and  recog- 
nizing in  his  appearance  and  dress  something  nautical — it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  mistake  the  admiral  for  anything  but  a 
sailor — Jack  stepped  across  the  lawn,  lugged  off  his  hat  with  a 
duck  and  a  bend,  and  said  :  "  Come  aboard,  sir.  With  sub- 
mission and  dutiful  respect,  admiral." 

The  admiral  laid  down  his  pipe,  and  leaned  forward,  hand 
on  knee,  his  wooden  leg  sticking  out  before  him. 

"  So,"  he  said.  "  This  looks  like  the  son  of  my  old  friend. 
What  is  thy  name,  child  ?" 

"  Jack  Easterbrook,  sir  ?" 

"  The  son  of  my  old  shipmate  ?" 

"  The  same,  sir." 

"  Parson,"  said  the  admiral,  "  forty-five  years  ago  I  was  just 
such  a  little  shaver  as  this,  and  so  was  his  father.  Hang  me  if 
the  boy  isn't  a  sailor  already !  Thy  father,  boy,  was  carried 
off  by  a  sunstroke  while  his  ship  was  lying  in  Kingston  Har- 
bor." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  In  command  of  his  majesty's  frigate  Racehorse,  forty-four." 

"The  same,  sir." 

"  And  thy  mother,  poor  soul !  is  dead  and  gone  too  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  looking  for  a  moment  as  if  he  would 
cry.  But  it  passed.  The  admiral  took  his  stick  and  rose  from 
his  chair. 

"  Let  us,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  overhaul  the  boy  a  bit.  Thy 
father,  Jack,  was  the  best  officer  in  his  majesty's  service — the 


20  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

very  best  officer,  whether  for  navigation  or  for  fighting — which 
is  the  reason  why  they  kept  him  back,  and  promoted  the  rep- 
tiles who  crawl  up  the  back  stairs  and  make  interest  with  a 
great  man's  lackey.  He  now  lies  buried  in  Jamaica,  more's 
the  pity.  Look  me  in  the  face,  sirrah — so.  A  tall  and  prop- 
er lad  —  a  brave  and  gallant  lad.  What  shall  we  make  of 
him  ?" 

Jack's  face  became  a  lively  crimson  at  this  question.  We 
were  now  all  gathered  round  him — Castilla  looking  shyly  and 
with  admiring  eyes ;  and  I,  for  my  own  part,  thinking  that  here 
was  the  finest  and  bravest  boy  I  had  ever  set  eyes  on. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  the  admiral,  holding  the  boy's  chin  in  his 
hand  and  looking  at  him  steadily,  "  I  warrant,  Parson,  this  boy 
will  be  all  for  book-learning,  and  we  must  make  him  a  scholar 
— eh  ?  Then,  some  day,  he  shall  rise  to  be  a  reverend  doctor 
of  divinity,  a  dean,  or  even  a  bishop  in  lawn  sleeves.  What 
sayest  thou,  Jack  ?"  Here  the  admiral  took  his  hand  from  the 
boy's  chin,  shut  one  eye,  and  looked  mighty  cunning. 

Jack  shook  his  head  dolefully,  and  then  laughed,  looking  up 
as  if  he  knew  very  well  that  this  was  a  joke. 

"  Well,  well,  there  are  other  things.  We  can  make  thee  a 
compounder  of  boluses,  and  so  thou  shalt  ride  in  a  coach  and 
wear  a  great  wig,  and  call  thyself  physician.  'Tis  a  fine  trade, 
and  a  fat,  when  fevers  are  abroad." 

But  Jack  again  shook  his  head  and  laughed.  This  was  a 
really  fine  joke,  one  that  can  be  carried  on  a  long  time. 

"  He  will  not  be  a  physician.  The  boy  is  hard  to  please. 
Well,  he  can,  if  he  likes,  become  a  lawyer,  and  wear  a  black 
gown,  and  argue  a  poor  fellow  to  the  gallows.  Of  such  they 
make  lord  chancellors.  At  sea  their  name  is  shark." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Jack,  with  decision,  because  every  joke  hath 
its  due  limits.  "  No,  sir,  I  thank  you.  With  submission,  sir,  I 
cannot  be  a  lawyer." 

"  Here  is  a  boy  for  you.  One  would  think  he  was  too  good 
for  this  world.  Perhaps  he  would  like  to  wear  his  majesty's 
scarlet,  and  follow  the  drum  and  fife,  and  fight  the  king's  ene- 
mies on  land.  It  is  as  great  an  honor  to  bear  the  king's  com- 
mission by  land  as  by  sea.  It  is  a  good  service  too,  when  wars 
are  going,  though  in  times  of  peace  there  is  too  much  disband- 
ing by  half.  But  a  lad  might  do  worse.  Think  of  it  Jack  !" 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  21 

"Oh,  sir!"  said  Jack,  coloring  again,  "I  would  not  be  a 
soldier." 

"  Then,  Jack,  Jack,  do  thy  looks  belie  thee  ?  What  ? 
Wouldst  not  surely  choose  to  be  a  sneakin',  snivelling  quill- 
driver  in  a  merchant's  office  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  would  rather  starve  !  Sir,"  said  Jack,  his  eyes 
flashing,  "  I  would  be  a  sailor,  if  only  before  the  mast !" 

"  Why,  there !"  cried  the  admiral,  laying  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  head.  "  What  else  could  the  boy  be  ?  He  is  salt  all 
through.  Hark  ye,  my  lad :  do  thy  duty  and  thou  shalt  be  a 
sailor,  as  thy  father  was  before  thee.  Ay,  and  shalt  stand  in 
good  time  upon  thy  own  quarter-deck  and  carry  thy  ship  into 
action  as  bravely  as  thy  father,  or  even  good  old  Benbow  him- 
self." 

Thus  came  Jack  to  Deptford,  being  then  nine  years  of  age. 

Some  things  there  are — I  mean  not  travellers'  tales  of  one- 
legged  men,  and  such  as  have  their  heads  between  their  shoul- 
ders, and  griffins  and  such  monsters,  but  things  which  happen 
among  ourselves  and  in  our  midst — which  are  so  strange  that 
the  narration  of  them  must  be  supported  by  whatever  charac- 
ter for  truth,  honesty,  and  soberness  of  mind  may  be  possessed 
by  the  narrator  and  those  who  pretend  to  have  been  eye-wit- 
nesses. As  regards  the  history  which  follows,  it  is  proper  to 
explain  that  there  is,  besides  myself,  only  one  other  person  who 
knows  all  the  particulars.  Mr.  Brinjes,  it  is  true,  knew  them  ; 
but  he  has  gone  away  long  since,  and  must  now,  I  think,  cer- 
tainly be  dead.  The  admiral,  before  his  death,  was  told  the 
truth,  which  greatly  comforted  him  in  his  last  moments ;  and  I 
thought  it  right  to  tell  all  I  knew  to  my  father,  who  was  much 
moved  by  the  strangeness  of  the  circumstances,  and  quoted 
certain  passages  from  Holy  Writ  as  regards  the  practice  of 
witchcraft  and  magic.  Perhaps  the  man  Aaron  Fletcher  knew 
something  of  the  truth,  but  in  the  end  he  was  convicted  as  a 
notorious  smuggler,  and  sentenced  to  transportation  to  his 
majesty's  plantations,  where  he  died  of  a  calenture,  being  unable 
to  endure  the  excessive  and  scorching  heat  of  the  sun,  and  his 
spirit  broken  by  the  overseer's  whip.  Everybody,  it  is  true, 
knows  how  Captain  Easterbrook  brought  his  ship  home,  and 
what  followed.  This  is  a  matter  of  notoriety.  There  is  not  a 


22  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

man,  woman,  or  child  but  can  tell  you  the  astonishing  and  wonder- 
ful story,  the  like  of  which  has  never  been  in  the  history  of  the 
British  navy.  They  have  even  made  a  ballad  of  it,  very  mov- 
ing, which  is  sung  in  the  sailors'  mug-houses,  not  only  in  Dept- 
ford  itself,  but  in  Portsmouth,  Woolwich,  Sheerness,  Chatham, 
and  Plymouth.  But  to  know  one  fact  is  not  to  know  the  whole 
history. 

As  for  me,  who  design  to  write  the  truth  concerning  this 
strange  history,  it  is  well  that  you  who  read  it  should  know 
that  I  take  myself  to  be  a  person  of  reputable  life  and  of  sober 
judgment,  and  one  who  has  the  fear  of  God  in  his  mind,  and 
would  not  willingly  give  circulation  to  lying  fables.  My  father, 
the  Rev.  Luke  Anguish,  Artium  Magister,  formerly  of  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge,  of  which  society  he  was  a  fellow,  was  the 
first  vicar  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  Deptford ;  the  new  church,  that 
is,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  town,  which  was  completed  in  the 
year  1736.  By  calling,  I  am  a  painter  in  oil-colors ;  not,  I  dare 
say,  a  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  or  a  Gainsborough,  yet  of  no  mean 
repute  as  a  painter  of  ships.  It  were  unworthy  of  me  to  say 
more  than  that  my  pictures  have  met  with  approbation  from 
persons  of  rank,  and  that  I  have  been  honored  by  the  highest 
patronage,  even  by  members  of  the  House  of  Lords,  not  to  speak 
of  the  lord  mayor  and  aldermen.  As  for  the  contention  of 
Castilla  that  her  husband  is  the  finest  painter  of  ships  ever 
known,  that  may  be  the  partiality  of  a  jealous  and  tender  spouse. 
I  am  contented  to  leave  the  judgment  of  my  work  to  those  who 
shall  follow  after  me.  I  do  not  paint  ships  upon  the  ocean,  be- 
cause I  have  never  yet  gazed  upon  the  ocean,  and  know  not, 
except  from  pictures,  how  the  sea  should  be  painted,  or  a  ship 
rolling  upon  the  sea.  My  subjects  are  ships  in  harbor,  ships 
lying  off  Deptford  Creek,  ships  in  dock,  ships  in  building,  ships 
in  ordinary,  ships  ashore,  ships  in  the  Pool,  ships  sailing  up  and 
down  the  river,  and  especially  with  the  sun  in  the  west  shining 
on  the  sails,  and  painting  all  the  cordage  as  of  gold,  just  as  hap- 
pened when  Jack  brought  home  his  prize ;  also  ships  lying  in 
an  autumnal  fog,  and  great  barges  sunk  down  to  an  inch  of  free- 
board with  their  cargoes  of  hay.  Nothing  finer  can  be  painted, 
to  my  mind,  than  the  picture  of  such  a  barge  lying  on  a  still 
and  misty  day,  with  the  sun  overhead  like  a  plate  of  copper, 
the  brown  sails  half  lowered,  and  the  ropes  hanging  loose. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  23 

I  suppose  that  the  best  place  in  the  world  for  a  boy  who  is 
about  to  become  a  sailor,  as  well  as  for  one  who  loves  to  paint 
ships,  must  be  Deptford,  which  seems  to  many  so  mean  and 
despicable  a  town.  Mean  and  despicable  to  Jack  and  to  my- 
self it  would  never  be,  because  here  our  boyhood  was  spent, 
and  here  we  played  with  Castilla ;  here  we  first  learned  to  sit  by 
the  river-side  and  watch  the  craft  go  up  and  down,  with  those 
at  anchor  and  those  in  dock.  At  Deptford,  where  the  water  is 
never  rough  enough  to  capsize  a  tilt-boat,  we  are  at  the  very 
gates  of  London ;  we  can  actually  see  the  pool.:  we  are,  in  a 
word,  on  the  Thames. 

The  Thames  is  not,  I  believe,  the  largest  river  in  the  world  ; 
the  great  Oronoco  is  broader,  and,  I  dare  say,  longer ;  the  Nile 
is  certainly  a  greater  stream.  Yet,  there  is  no  other  river 
which  is  so  majestic  by  reason  of  its  shipping  and  its  trade. 
For  thither  come  ships,  laden  with  palm-oil  and  ivory,  from  the 
Guinea  Coast ;  from  Norway  and  Riga,  with  wood  and  tallow ; 
from  Holland,  with  stuffs  and  spices  and  provisions  of  all  kinds ; 
from  the  West  Indies,  with  rum  and  sugar ;  from  the  East 
Indies,  with  rice  ;  from  China,  with  tea  and  silk ;  from  Arabia, 
with  coffee ;  from  Newcastle,  with  coal.  There  is  no  kind  of 
merchandise  produced  in  the  world  which  is  not  carried  up  the 
Thames  to  the  port  of  London.  And  there  is  no  kind  of  ship 
or  boat  built  to  swim  in  the  sea,  except,  I  suppose,  the  Chinese 
junk,  the  Morisco  galley,  or  the  piratical  craft  of  the  Eastern 
Seas,  which  does  not  lie  at  anchor  in  the  Thames,  somewhere 
between  Greenwich  Reach  and  London  Bridge.  East-Indiamen, 
brigs,  brigantines,  schooners,  yachts,  sloops,  galliots,  tenders, 
colliers,  hoys,  barges,  smacks,  herring-busses,  or  hog-boats — all 
are  here.  And  not  only  these,  which  are  peaceful  ships,  only 
armed  with  carronades  and  muskets  for  defence  against  pirates, 
but  also  his  majesty's  men-of-war,  frigates,  sloops  of  war,  cut- 
ters, fire-ships,  and  every  kind  of  vessel  employed  to  beat  off 
the  enemies  of  the  country,  who  would  prey  upon  our  com- 
merce and  destroy  our  merchantmen.  On  that  very  day  when 
Jack  came  was  there  not,  lying  off  Deptford  Creek,  the  Re- 
doubtable, having  received  her  stores,  provisions,  and  ammuni- 
tion, and  now  waiting  her  captain  and  her  crew  ? — and  I  warrant 
the  press-gang  were  busy  at  Wapping  and  at  Ratcliffe.  Beside 
her  lay  the  sloop-of-war  Venus,  the  Pink,  and  Lively,  and  off 


24  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

the  dock  mouth  was  the  Hector,  lying  in  ordinary,  a  broad  can- 
vas tilt  or  awning  rigged  up  from  stem  to  stern.  So  that  those 
who  look  up  and  down  the  river  from  Deptford  Stairs  see  not 
only  the  outward  and  visible  proofs  of  England's  trade,  but  also 
those  of  England's  greatness.  Or,  again — which  may  be  useful 
to  the  painter — one  may  see  not  only  at  Deptford  and  at  Red- 
riff,  but  above  the  river,  at  Wapping,  Shadwell,  and  Blackwall, 
every  kind  of  sailor ;  they  are  mostly  alike  in  manners  and  in 
morals — and  one  hopes  that  to  sailors  much  is  pardoned,  and 
that  from  them  little  is  expected — but  they  differ  in  their 
speech  and  in  their  dress.  There  is  the  phlegmatic  Hollander, 
never  without  his  pipe  ;  the  mild  Norwegian ;  the  fiery  Spaniard, 
ready  with  his  dagger ;  the  fierce  Italian,  equally  ready  with 
his  knife  ;  the  treacherous  Greek ;  and  the  Frenchman.  But 
the  last  we  generally  see — since  it  is  our  lot  to  be  often  at  war 
with  his  nation — as  a  prisoner,  when  he  comes  to  us  half  starved, 
ragged,  and  in  very  evil  plight.  Yet  give  these  poor  French 
prisoners  only  warmth,  light,  and  food,  and  they  will  turn  out 
to  be  most  light-hearted  and  merry  blades,  always  cheerful  and 
ready  to  talk,  sing,  and  dance,  and  always  making  ingenious 
things  with  a  knife  and  a  piece  of  wood.  Perhaps  if  we  knew 
this  people  better,  and  they  knew  us  better,  we  should  be  less 
ready  to  go  to  war  with  each  other. 

Those  who  live  in  such  a  town  as  Deptford,  and  continually 
witness  this  procession  of  ships,  cannot  choose  but  be  sensible 
of  the  greatness  of  the  country,  and  must  perforce  talk  con- 
tinually with  each  other  of  foreign  ports  and  places  beyond  the 
ocean.  Also  because  they  witness  the  corning  and  going  of  the 
king's  ships  (some  of  them  pretty  well  battered  on  their  return, 
I  promise  you) ;  and  because  they  hear,  all  day  long,  and  never 
ending,  save  on  Sunday,  the  sound  of  hammer  and  of  saw,  the 
whistling  of  the  bo's'ns  and  foremen,  the  rolling  of  casks,  the 
ringing  of  bells,  and  all  the  noise  which  accompanies  the  build- 
ing and  the  fitting  of  ships ;  and  smell  perpetually  the  tar  and 
the  pitch  (which  some  love  better  than  the  smell  of  roses  and 
of  violets) — they  cannot  refrain  from  talking  continually  of 
actions  at  sea,  feats  of  bravery,  and  the  like.  All  the  towns- 
people talk  of  these  things,  and  of  little  else.  And,  besides, 
in  these  years  there  was  the  more  reason  for  this  kind  of  con- 
versation because  we  were  always  at  war  with  France  and  Spain, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  25 

fighting,  among  other  things,  to  drive  the  French  out  of  America, 
and  so  to  enable  the  ungrateful  colonies  to  make  us,  shortly 
afterwards,  follow  the  lead  of  the  French.  Every  day  there 
came  fresh  news  of  actions,  skirmishes,  captures,  wrecks,  burn- 
ings. The  Channel  and  the  Bay  of  Biscay  swarmed  with  French 
privateers  as  thick  as  wasps  in  an  orchard.  There  was  not  a 
lugger  on  the  coast  of  Normandy  but  stole  out  of  a  night  to 
pick  up  some  English  craft ;  every  fleet  of  merchantmen  sailed 
under  convoy,  and  every  sailor  looked  for  death  or  a  French 
prison  unless  he  would  fight  it  out  unto  the  end. 

The  people  of  London  are  strangely  incurious — many  there 
are  who  know  nothing  about  the  very  monuments  standing  in 
their  midst — and  so  that  they  can  read  every  day  the  news 
from  France  and  Spain,  they  care  little  about  their  own  country. 
Therefore  Deptford,  which  lies  at  their  very  gates,  is  as  little 
known  to  them  as  if  it  were  in  Wales.  Some,  it  is  true,  come 
every  year  on  St.  Luke's  Day  to  join  the  rabble  at  Horn  Fair, 
landing  at  Rotherhithe,  and  walking  to  Charlton  with  the  pro- 
cession of  mad  wags  who  carry  horns  on  their  heads  to  that 
scene  of  debauchery  and  riot ;  and  once  a  year,  on  Trinity  Mon- 
day, the  elders  of  the  Trinity  House  assemble  at  the  Great  Hall 
behind  St.  Nicolas's,  and  after  business  go  to  church,  and  after 
church,  dinner  at  the  Gun  Tavern  on  the  Green.  And  the  ships 
of  the  royal  navy  come  and  go  at  the  royal  yard  almost  daily. 
Otherwise  Deptford  hath  no  visitors.  I  do  not  say  that  it  is 
a  beautiful  city,  though,  as  for  streets,  we  have  the  Green  and 
Church  Street ;  and  as  for  monuments,  until  late  years  there  were 
the  great  House  and  gardens  of  Saye's  Court,  now  lying  deso- 
late and  miserable,  partly  enclosed  in  the  King's  Yard  and 
partly  given  over  to  rank  weeds  and  puddles.  Here  it  was  that 
the  great  Peter,  Czar  of  Muscovy,  once  lived.  There  are  also  the 
two  churches  of  St.  Nicolas  and  St.  Paul,  both  stately  buildings, 
and  temples  fit  for  worship,  the  latter  especially,  which  is  like 
its  sister  churches,  built  about  the  same  time,  of  Limehouse, 
St.  George's,  Ratcliffe,  Hoxton,  Bethnal  Green,  Hackney,  St. 
Martin's-in-the-Fields,  Camden  Town,  and  others — majestic  with 
its  vast  round  portico  of  stone  and  its  commanding  terrace. 
Then  there  are  the  two  hospitals  or  almshouses,  both  named  after 
the  Holy  Trinity,  for  decayed  mariners  and  their  widows.  To 
my  own  mind  these  monuments  of  benevolence,  which  stand  so 
2 


26  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

thickly  all  round  London,  are  fairer  than  the  most  magnificent 
king's  palace  of  which  we  can  read.  Let  the  great  bashaw  have 
as  many  gilded  palaces  as  he  pleases  for  himself  and  his  se- 
raglio ;  let  our  palaces  be  those  which  are  worthy  of  a  free 
people,  namely,  homes  and  places  of  refuge  for  the  aged  and  de- 
serving poor,  and  those  who  are  quite  spent  and  now  past  work. 

1  suppose  there  are  few  places  richer  and  more  fortunate 
than  Deptford  and  its  neighbor,  Greenwich,  in  these  founda- 
tions. At  the  latter  place  there  is  the  great  and  noble  Naval 
Hospital,  now  inhabited  by  nearly  two  thousand  honest  veter- 
ans ;  they  will  never,  be  sure,  be  turned  out  of  this,  their  stately 
home,  until  England  hath  lost  her  pride  in  her  sailors.  There 
is  Morden  College,  for  decayed  merchants ;  there  is  Norfolk,  also 
called  Trinity,  College,  for  the  poor  of  Greenwich,  and  of  Der- 
singham,  in  Norfolk ;  and  there  is  Queen  Elizabeth's  Hospital, 
for  poor  women.  So,  at  Deptford,  we  have  those  two  noble 
foundations,  both  named  after  the  Holy  Trinity,  one  behind 
St.  Nicolas's  and  the  other  behind  St.  Paul's,  the  latter  espe- 
cially being  a  goodly  structure,  with  a  fair  quadrangular  court, 
a  commodious  hall,  and  gardens  fitted  for  quiet  meditation  and 
for  rest  in  the  sunshine  during  the  latest  trembling  years  of  life. 
I  do  not  think  that  even  Morden  College  itself,  with  its  canal 
in  front  and  its  stately  alleys  of  trees,  or  Norfolk  College,  with 
its  convenient  stone  terrace  overlooking  the  river  and  its  spa- 
cious garden,  is  more  beautiful  than  the  Hospital  of  the  Holy 
Trinity  beside  St.  Paul's  Church,  Deptford,  especially  if  one 
considers  the  stormy,  anxious,  and  harassed  lives  to  which  it 
offers  rest  and  repose.  They  have  been  lives  spent  on  the  sea ; 
not  in  the  pursuit  of  honor  won  at  the  cannon's  mouth  and  by 
boarding-pike  in  fighting  the  king's  enemies,  but  in  the  gather- 
ing of  wealth  for  others  to  enjoy,  none  of  their  gains  coming  to 
themselves.  The  merchant  captain  brings  home  his  cargo  safe 
after  perils  many  and  hardships  great ;  but  the  cargo  is  not  for 
him.  His  owners,  or  those  who  have  chartered  the  ship,  re- 
ceive the  freight ;  it  is  bought  with  their  money  and  sold  for 
their  profit.  For  the  captain  and  the  crew  there  is  their  bare 
wage ;  and  when  they  can  work  no  longer,  perhaps,  if  they  are 
fortunate,  a  room  in  a  hospital  or  almshouse,  with  the  weekly 
dole  of  loaves  and  shillings. 

The  tract  of  land  (it  is  not  great)  lying  at  the  back  of  Trinity 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  27 

Almshouses  and  the  Stowage,  contained  by  the  last  bend  of  the 
creek  before  it  runs  into  the  river,  is  rented  by  two  or  three 
market-gardeners,  and  laid  out  by  them  for  the  production  of 
fruit  and  vegetables. 

As  these  gardens  lay  retired  and  behind  the  houses,  no  one 
ever  came  to  them  except  the  gardeners  themselves,  who  are 
quiet,  peaceful  folk.  About  the  orchards  here,  and  the  beds 
of  asparagus,  pease,  endive,  skirrett,  and  the  rest  of  the  vegeta- 
bles grown  for  the  London  market,  lies  ever  an  abiding  sense 
of  peace ;  and  this  although  one  cannot  but  hear  the  continual 
hammering  of  the  dock-yard,  the  firing  of  salutes,  and  the  yo- 
hoing  and  roaring  of  voices  which  all  day  long  come  up  from 
the  ships  upon  the  river.  I  know  not  how  we  came  to  know 
these  gardens,  or  to  find  them  out.  I  used  to  wander  in  them 
with  Castilla,  when  we  were  little  children,  with  Philadelphy 
for  nurse ;  we  took  Jack  Easterbrook  to  show  him  the  place  as 
soon  as  he  came  to  us ;  we  thought,  I  believe — as  children  love 
to  think  of  anything — that  the  gardens  were  our  own,  though, 
of  course,  we  were  only  there  on  sufferance,  and  because  the 
gardeners  knew  we  should  neither  destroy  nor  steal. 

Perhaps  the  chief  reason  why  we  sought  the  place  (because 
we  had  gardens  of  our  own  at  home)  was  that,  just  beyond  the 
last  bend  of  the  creek,  there  stood,  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
steep  bank — here  twenty  feet  above  low-water  mark — an  old 
summer-house,  built  of  wood.  It  was  octagonal  in  shape,  hav- 
ing a  pointed  roof  of  shingle,  with  a  gilded  weathercock  upon 
it.  Three  sides  contained  windows,  all  looking  upon  the  river ; 
another  side  consisted  of  a  door ;  and  a  bench  ran  round  the 
room,  except  on  the  side  of  the  door.  It  had  once  been  paint- 
ed green,  but  the  paint  was  now  for  the  most  part  fallen  off ; 
the  shingle  roof  was  leaky,  and  let  in  the  rain ;  the  weathercock 
was  rusty,  and  stuck  at  due  east ;  the  planks  of  the  wall  had 
started  ;  the  door  hardly  hung  upon  its  hinges ;  the  glass  of  the 
windows  was  broken ;  and  the  whole  structure  was  so  crazy 
that  I  wonder  it  kept  together,  and  did  not  either  tumble  to 
pieces  or  slip  down  the  steep  bank  into  the  ooze  of  the  creek. 
In  this  summer-house  the  great  czar  Peter,  when  he  was  learn- 
ing how  to  build  ships  in  Deptford  Yard,  would,  it  was  said, 
sometimes  come  to  sit  with  his  princes  or  heyducs,  on  a  sum- 
mer evening,  to  drink  brandy,  to  look  at  the  ships,  and  to  med- 


28  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

itatc  how  best  to  convert  his  enslaved  Muscovites  into  the  like- 
ness of  free  and  honest  English  sailors.  We  had  small  respect 
for  the  memory  of  the  czar,  but  as  for  the  old  summer-house, 
it  was  all  our  own,  because  no  one  used  it  except  ourselves. 
For  us  it  was  a  fortress  or  castle  where  we  could  play  at  being 
besieged,  the  ships  in  the  river  representing  the  enemy's  fleet. 
Jack  would  sally  forth  and  perform  prodigies  of  valor  in  bring- 
ing in  provisions  for  the  garrison.  Or  it  was  our  ship,  in  which 
we  sustained  imaginary  broadsides,  and  encountered  shipwreck, 
and  were  cast  away,  Jack  being  captain  and  Castilla  the  pas- 
senger, while  I  was  alternately  bo's'n,  first  lieutenant,  or  cook, 
according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  situation.  But  very  soon 
Jack  grew  too  big  for  these  games,  and  left  us  to  ourselves. 
Then  we  fell  to  more  quiet  sport.  It  was  pleasant  to  watch 
the  ships  go  up  and  down  the  river,  and  fine  to  see  how  the 
tide  rushed  up  the  creek  below  us,  making  whirlpools  and  ed- 
dies, and  setting  upright  the  boats  lying  on  their  sides  in  the 
mud,  and  trying  to  tear  down  the  bank  on  which  stood  our 
rickety  palace.  We  seemed  to  know  every  craft,  from  the 
great  East  -  Indiaman  to  the  Margate  hoys  or  the  Gravesend 
tilt-boats,  by  face,  so  to  speak,  just  as  we  knew  the  faces  of  the 
naval  officers  who  walked  about  the  town.  And,  thanks  to 
Jack,  we  knew  the  history  of  every  ship  of  the  king's  navy 
which  came  to  Deptford,  and  all  the  engagements  and  actions 
in  which  she  had  ever  taken  part. 

Across  the  creek,  and  as  far  as  the  woods  and  slopes  of 
Greenwich,  there  are  more  gardens,  so  that  at  springtime  it 
was  a  beautiful  thing  to  sit  in  the  summer-house  and  look  forth 
upon  a  great  forest — it  seemed  nothing  less  to  our  young  eyes 
— covered  with  sweet  blossoms  and  tender  green  leaves,  which 
formed  a  strange  and  beautiful  setting  for  the  ships  in  the  riv- 
er. I  have  painted  this  picture  several  times,  and  always  with 
a  new  pleasure,  so  sweet  and  charming  it  is.  When  I  began  first 
to  draw,  it  was  in  this  place ;  but  it  was  when  Jack  had  ceased 
to  play  with  us,  because  he  would  only  have  laughed  at  me.  I 
.  drew  the  ships  with  trembling  pencil,  Castilla  standing  over  me 
the  while.  The  dear  girl  could  never  hold  a  pencil  in  her  hand ; 
but  she  could  tell  me  if  my  drawings  were  like.  Now,  to  draw 
ships  that  are  like  real  ships  is  the  most  important  of  all.  The 
time  soon  came  when  I  was  never  without  a  pencil  in  my  hand 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  29 

and  paper  to  draw  upon.  I  drew  everything,  just  as  some  boys 
will  read  everything.  I  drew  the  ships  and  the  boats,  the  creek 
and  the  bridge,  the  sailors,  the  skeletons  of  half-built  ships  in 
the  great  sheds,  and  the  girl  who  stood  beside  me. 

The  picture  of  a  lad  who  draws  while  a  girl  stands  beside 
him — that  might  stand  for  the  picture  of  my  life.  It  is  a  life 
which  has  been,  I  thank  God,  free  from  anxiety,  trouble,  or  ca- 
lamity. Once  I  painted  such  a  picture  (having  Castilla  and 
myself  in  my  mind).  I  drew  a  youth  of  eighteen  seated  be- 
fore a  window,  just  such  a  window  as  that  of  the  old  summer- 
house.  The  window  showed  a  merchantman,  or  part  of  a  mer- 
chantman, slowly  making  her  way  up  the  river  with  wind  and 
tide.  Her  foremast  and  mainmast  were  gone,  and  in  their  places 
two  jurymasts  rigged  with  a  stay-sail ;  her  bowsprit  was  gone, 
and  her  figure-head  carried  away  and  lost ;  her  bulwarks  were 
broken  down.  Yet  she  was  safe,  and  her  crew  and  cargo  were 
safe,  and  the  evening  sun  was  upon  her,  so  that  she  showed 
glorious  in  spite  of  her  battered  condition,  and  seemed  like 
some  poor  human  soul  which,  after  many  troubles,  gets  at  last 
into  the  haven  where  she  may  lie  at  rest  forever.  The  boy  in 
my  picture  was  gazing  upon  his  sketch  as  if  comparing  it  with 
the  original.  Beside  him  stood  a  girl  of  the  same  age — be  sure 
that  she  was  a  very  beautiful  girl,  gentle  and  composed,  fall 
of  holy  thoughts — who  looked  down  upon  the  lad.  Thus  it  is 
always.  The  man  considers  his  work,  and  the  woman  consid- 
ers the  man,  loving  his  work  because  she  loves  the  worker,  yet 
not,  like  the  man,  carried  away  by  admiration  for  the  work,  as 
knowing  that  all  man's  work  is  perishable  and  transitory,  and 
that  the  breath  of  fame  is  fleeting.  The  picture  of  the  girl  is 
the  true  portrait  of  Castilla  as  she  appeared  at  the  age  of  eigh- 
teen, taken  from  the  many  drawings  which  1  made  of  her  at 
that  time,  her  hair  a  light  brown,  falling  in  waves  artlessly  upon 
her  shoulders,  and  her  eyes  a  clear  deep  blue,  to  present  which 
upon  the  canvas  would  want  a  Reynolds  or  a  Raphael.  Alas ! 
if  Sir  Joshua  had  painted  this  picture,  then,  indeed,  would  you 
have  caught  in  those  eyes  the  light  of  virtue  and  goodness,  and 
you  would  have  seen  about  that  brow  a  divine  halo,  which  I 
have  always  seen  there,  but  have  not  the  art  to  represent.  This 
it  was  which  the  ancients  meant  when  they  figured  their  god- 
desses wrapped  about  with  a  cloud. 


30  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

And  beside  our  quiet  lives  there  ran  the  tumultuous  course 
of  a  life  whose  parallel  I  know  not  anywhere. 

We  did  not,  it  may  be  supposed,  stay  always  in  the  old  sum- 
mer-house. As  we  grew  older  we  roamed  about  the  country, 
Jack  sometimes  condescending  to  lead  the  way  (though  he 
would  rather  have  spent  his  whole  time  in  the  yard  among  the 
ships).  There  is  a  pleasant  country  lying  south  and  east  of 
Deptford.  You  may,  for  instance,  cross  the  bridge  over  the 
creek,  past  the  toll-gate,  and  so  by  Limekiln  Lane  and  London 
Street,  a  pleasant  road  among  the  orchards,  you  will  reach  the 
town  of  Greenwich,  with  its  great  hospital ;  and  if  you  please 
to  leave  this  unvisited,  you  may  turn  to  the  right,  and  so  up  the 
hill  by  Brazenface  Avenue,  and  into  the  Wilderness.  Beyond 
the  Wilderness  is  Blackheath,  a  wild  and  desolate  spot,  with 
never  a  house  upon  it,  covered  with  furze-bushes.  Gypsies 
camp  here,  and  it  is  said  that  footpads  and  highwaymen  lurk 
among  the  caves ;  but  we  never  met  any.  One  can  come  home, 
by  way  of  Watersplash,  along  the  stream,  which  is  here  no 
longer  Deptford  Creek,  but  the  Ravensbourne — a  pretty  brook 
of  pure  water,  with  deep  holes  under  trees,  and  babbling  shal- 
lows, running  between  high  banks,  where  the  primroses  in 
March  and  April  lie  in  thousands.  The  holes  are  full  of  jack, 
which  we  sometimes  caught  with  float  and  hook ;  and  here  in 
spring  we  went  birdnesting,  and  in  summer  we  picked  the  wild 
roses,  and  in  autumn  gathered  nuts,  sloes,  and  blackberries. 
Farther  afield  there  is  Woolwich  Common;  or  Eltham,  with 
the  ruins  of  King  John's  palace,  the  walls  of  which  still  stand, 
and  the  moat  may  still  be  seen,  now  dry ;  and  the  king's  ban- 
queting-hall,  which  is  used  for  a  barn,  stands  stately  with  its 
Gothic  windows.  And  if  one  follows  up  the  windings  of  the 
Ravensbourne  there  are  presently  the  swelling  uplands  of  Penge, 
with  their  hanging  woods ;  and  Norwood,  Westwood  Common, 
Sydenham  Wells,  and  many  other  rural  places,  pleasant  for  those 
who  love  the  haunts  of  singing  birds  and  wild-flowers  and  the 
babble  of  brooks  and  remoteness  from  the  walks  of  men. 

But  for  such  a  boy  as  Jack,  what  are  all  the  charms  of  Nat- 
ure compared  with  the  ships,  and  the  docks,  and  the  river  ? 
You  can  get  orchards  everywhere,  but  not  a  seaport  and  a 
dock-yard.  You  can  find  rustics,  and  you  may  meditate  in 
woods  all  over  the  country,  but  you  cannot  talk  everywhere, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  31 

as  you  can  at  Deptford  and  Greenwich,  with  sailors,  old  and 
young,  of  the  merchant  service  and  the  king's  navy.  The 
sailors  are  rough  of  speech  and  rude  of  manners ;  they  live  in 
mean  houses ;  but  in  every  house  there  is  something  strange 
and  wonderful  brought  from  foreign  parts.  The  very  lands- 
men, and  those  who  work  at  mechanical  trades,  are  half  sailors, 
though  they  do  not  wear  the  sailors'  petticoats ;  for  they  are 
shipwrights,  boat-builders,  fitters  of  state-cabins,  carvers  who 
decorate  figure-heads  and  ships'  sterns,  or  are  employed  in  the 
victualing  yard  or  in  the  carpenters'  shop,  or  they  a/e  ships' 
painters,  rope-makers,  or  are  employed  to  scrape  clean  and 
calk  ships'  bottoms  ;  so  that  the  whole  town  makes  its  living 
by  the  sea.  No  one  speaks  or  thinks  of  anything  but  the  sea 
and  the  things  which  are  concerned  with  the  sea.  What,  for 
instance,  did  the  people  of  Deptford  know  about  the  conduct 
of  the  allies  and  the  king's  land  forces  during  the  late  war  ? 
Yet  they  knew  of  every  naval  action  that  was  fought,  and  the 
name  of  every  ship  engaged  ;  and  there  were  men  of  Deptford, 
both  pressed  and  volunteers,  with  every  fleet  and  squadron. 
The  streets  were  always  full  of  sailors ;  the  officers  of  the  ships 
in  commission  and  fitting  out  were  always  passing  in  and  out 
of  the  dock-yard  gates,  and  in  sunny  weather  the  benches  by 
the  stairs,  at  the  upper  and  lower  water  gates,  were  crowded 
with  the  old  fellows  watching  the  craft  go  up  and  down,  and 
listening  to  the  ribald  jests  of  the  watermen,  and  ready  to  talk 
all  day  long  with  a  certain  lad  of  bright  eyes  and  brave  face, 
who  was  never  tired  of  listening  to  them. 

What  with  the  old  men  of  Trinity  and  the  pensioners  of 
Greenwich,  the  boy  heard  stories  enough  .of  the  sea  and  the 
ships  and  those  who  sail  therein.  Some  of  the  men  were  so 
old  that  they  could  remember  Admiral  Benbow  and  his  cow- 
ardly captains.  There  was  not  a  single  action  fought  in  the 
first  half  of  this  century  but  was  represented  among  the  Green- 
wich pensioners,  some  of  whom  were  in  it,  and  had  lost  an 
arm,  a  leg,  an  eye,  or  anything  else  that  can  be  shot  away  and 
leave  the  trunk  still  living.  I  can  still  see  Jack  standing  be- 
fore some  old  veteran  with  a  hook  for  a  hand,  his  eye  kindling, 
his  cheek  aflame,  his  fists  clinched,  his  lips  parted,  because  in 
imagination  he  saw  the  deck  knee-deep  in  blood,  the  boarders 
leaping  upon  the  enemy  like  tigers  upon  their  prey,  the  ship 


32  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

capsized  or  sinking,  the  French  flag  struck,  and  because  he 
heard  the  roaring  of  the  great  guns,  the  rattle  of  the  muskets, 
the  clash  of  cutlasses,  and  the  groans  of  the  wounded. 

There  are  many  other  things  at  sea  besides  fighting,  chasing, 
and  boarding.  Jack  learned  the  daily  life,  for  example,  from 
these  old  fellows,  with  the  duties  and  the  discipline.  He  heard 
about  foreign  ports  and  strange  lands ;  certainly  one  would 
never  be  tired  of  visiting  wild  and  unknown  countries,  where 
there  may  remain  yet  to  be  discovered  strange  races  of  men, 
with  fruits  and  flowers  as  yet  unseen  and  undreamed.  But 
there  are  also,  alas  !  storms  and  hurricanes,  wrecks  in  mid- 
ocean,  with,  as  the  almsmen  could  tell  us,  boats  laden  to  the 
gunwale  with  sailors  who  have  escaped  the  sinking  ship  only 
to  be  tossed  helpless  on  the  sea  with  never  a  drop  of  water  to 
drink  or  a  mouthful  of  biscuit  to  eat.  Or  there  are  those  who 
are  cast  away  upon  some  desolate  rock  or  unknown  island, 
where  they  live  on  sea-birds,  fish,  mussels,  and  the  like,  till 
they  die  or  are  taken  off.  And  some  are  thrown  upon  cold 
and  inhospitable  coasts,  such  as  that  of  Labrador,  where  the 
cruel  cold  causes  their  hands  and  feet,  their  noses  and  ears,  to 
fall  off — there  was  one  poor  wretch  in  the  hospital  thus  mu- 
tilated— and  where  the  North  American  Indians  (the  most 
savage  and  the  most  ruthless  race  in  the  world)  take  them 
prisoners,  and  torture  them  before  slow  fires.  Or  there  are 
treacherous  pirates,  who  steal  aboard,  murder  the  crews,  and 
pillage  the  ship.  Or  there  are  Moors,  who  make  slaves  of 
honest  English  sailors,  and  constrain  them  to  row  in  their  gal- 
leys, bare-backed,  with  the  master  or  bo's'n  walking  above 
them  on  a  kind  of  bridge,  armed  with  a  whip  to  scourge  the 
bare  backs  of  those  who  seem  to  shirk  their  work.  Or  there 
are  French  prisons,  where  the  captives  are  starved  on  thin 
soup  and  bread  for  all  their  diet.  Or  there  is  the  accursed 
Inquisition,  into  whose  clutches  many  sailors  have  been  known 
to  fall,  and  for  their  endurance  in  the  Protestant x  faith  have 
suffered  the  torture  of  the  rack,  and  even  martyrdom  at  the 
stake.  And,  again,  there  are  such  perils  as  falling  overboard, 
fire  at  sea,  scurvy,  yellow  jack,  and  mutiny.  And  there  is  the 
evil — intolerable  it  would  be  to  landsmen — of  the  captain's 
tyranny,  or,  which  often  happens,  the  malice,  envy,  or  jealousy 
of  a  first  lieutenant,  with  endless  floggings  and  rope's-endings 


THE    WORLD    WENT  VERY    WELL    THEN.  33 

all  day  long.  And,  again,  there  is  the  danger  that,  after  show- 
ing the  greatest  zeal,  bravery,  and  activity  in  service,  a  man 
may  be  passed  over  by  the  favoritism  which  prevails  in  high 
quarters  and  the  want  of  friends  to  help  him.  Is  it  not  a 
dreadful  and  a  shameful  thing  that  there  should  be  men  grown 
old  as  lieutenants — nay,  even  as  midshipmen — who  have  fought 
in  a  hundred  battles,  and  spent  their  lives  upon  salt-water,  only 
to  feel  a  new  mortification  every  voyage  in  serving  under  men 
young  enough  to  be  their  own  sons  ? 

As  for  myself,  the  talk  of  these  old  men  filled  me  with  a 
kind  of  contempt  for  the  seaman's  lot.  One  cannot  choose 
but  admire  the  intrepidity,  worthy  of  a  stoical  philosopher, 
with  which  these  men  face,  every  day,  possible  death ;  yea, 
and  exhibit  the  most  wonderful  constancy  under  pain,  and  the 
strangest  insensibility  to  danger.  This,  I  say,  commands  our 
admiration.  Yet  the  lot  of  the  meanest  landsman  seems  to 
me  easier  than  that  of  a  sailor,  and  I  would  rather  be  a  hedger 
and  a  ditcher  upon  a  farm  than  even  a  commissioned  officer 
aboard  the  finest  ship  that  ever  floated.  But  we  landsmen 
know  not  the  strength  of  that  longing  for  the  sea  which  pos- 
sesses some  lads,  and  drags  them  as  by  chains  or  ropes  to  the 
nearest  port  (thus  was  Jack  drawn  irresistibly  by  the  hand  of 
fate),  and  so  aboard ;  and  once  on  the  ship's  books,  there  is 
no  other  way  possible,  and  the  lad  becomes  for  life  a  sailor,  to 
spend  his  days  rolling  about  on  a  wet  and  slippery  deck,  yet 
happier  than  if  he  were  ashore  ;  like  unto  those  rovers  of  old, 
the  north-country  men,  who  could  stay  long  in  no  place,  but 
roved  from  port  to  port,  landing  here  and  there,  and  devour- 
ing the  substance  of  the  people,  even  to  the  southern  coasts 
of  Italy  and  the  islands  of  Greece. 


CHAPTER   HI. 

HOW  JACK  LEARNED  OF  THE  PENMAN. 

HERE  were  materials  enough  to  fire  the  imagination  and 

awaken  the  ardor  of  a  boy  about  to  become  a  sailor.     But 

these  were  not  all.     For  at  home — the  admiral's  house  having 

become  this  orphan's  home — there  was  talk  all  day  long  of 

2* 


34  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

fighting  and  foreign  seas,  and  things  nautical.  Jack's  patron, 
or  guardian,  had  been  engaged  in  many  of  the  actions  fought 
during  the  eleven  years'  war  between  the  years  1702  and  1713. 
He  was  on  board  the  Resolution,  which  carried  Lord  Peterbor- 
ough when  she  was  intercepted  by  a  French  squadron,  and  was 
forced  to  run  ashore  in  order  to  save  her  from  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy ;  he  was  on  Sir  George  Byng's  ship,  the 
Royal  Anne,  in  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel's  fleet,  when  that  hero 
perished  off  the  Scilly  Isles ;  he  was  a  lieutenant  on  board  the 
Assurance  in  that  gallant  action  with  the  French  commander 
Du  Guai  Trouin,  of  the  Achille.  In  this  battle  he  lost  his  arm ; 
his  leg  he  lost  in  the  capture  of  a  Moorish  corsair  during  the 
reduction  of  Morocco,  in  the  year  1734.  After  this  he  retired, 
receiving  the  rank  of  rear-admiral,  and  settled  at  Deptford, 
then  about  forty-two  years  of  age.  He  presently  discovered 
that  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  live  alone,  and  therefore  took  a 
wife,  who  in  due  time  bore  him  a  child,  Castilla.  His  daugh- 
ter, who,  if  anybody,  ought  to  know,  says  that  her  father  pos- 
sessed in  an  eminent  degree,  and  daily  in  his  lifetime  exhib- 
ited, most,  if  not  all,  of  the  virtues  which  should  adorn  the 
Christian  who  is  also  an  officer  of  high  rank  in  his  majesty's 
navy.  The  Christian  virtues,  it  is  sure,  vary  according  to  a 
man's  station  in  life.  We  do  not  expect  certain  things  from 
princes  which  are  indispensable  to  those  of  lowly  and  humble 
lot ;  from  an  admiral  of  the  fleet  we  do  not  look  for  meekness, 
patience,  humility,  or  resignation  ;  a  choleric  disposition  is  al- 
lowed to  him ;  the  habit  of  applying  sacred  names  to  things 
profane  is  excused  in  him  ;  and  if  he  who  has  commanded  a 
man-of-war  is  not  to  have  his  own  way  in  everything,  who 
should  ?  As  for  obedience  to  the  commandments,  it  may  be 
shown  that  the  admiral  followed  them  all.  Thus,  for  honor- 
ing his  parents,  he  did  more — he  was  proud  of  them,  because 
they  came  of  a  good  stock — and  honored  himself  on  their 
account ;  he  killed  nobody  save  in  battle,  though  he  drubbed 
and  belabored  his  servants  every  day ;  he  robbed  nobody,  ex- 
cept in  an  honorable  way,  as  in  taking  a  prize  ;  he  was  envious 
of  nothing  but  the  Frenchman's  ships  ;  he  freely  forgave  every- 
body, even  those  who  transgressed  his  orders  on  board  ship 
and  sinned  against  his  patience,  as  soon  as  he  had  soundly 
flogged  them.  To  bear  malice  when  a  man  had  paid  for  his 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  35 

fault  with  three  dozen  was  not  in  the  admiral's  nature.  And 
that  he  was  of  a  truly  good  heart  and  a  benevolent  disposition 
was  clearly  shown  by  his  treatment  of  Jack  Easterbrook. 

There  were  also  many  others,  formerly  of  the  naval  service, 
who  were  contented  to  spend  the  evening  of  their  days  in  this 
town  of  Deptford,  which  is  not  on  the  sea,  yet  lives  by  the 
sea.  Among  them  was  that  famous  traveller  George  Shelvocke. 
the  younger,  who  accompanied  his  father  in  the  circumnavi- 
gation of  the  globe  in  the  year  1720,  and  was  never  tired  of 
relating  the  perils,  sufferings,  and  adventures  of  that  voyage, 
and  the  wonders  of  the  South  Seas :  an  account  of  the  voyage 
hath  been  published  for  the  curious.  There  were  also  Cap- 
tain Mayne,  who  commanded  the  Worcester  in  Admiral  Ver- 
non's  expedition ;  Captain  Petherick,  resident  commissioner 
of  the  yard,  who  had  a  goodly  collection  of  books  of  voyages, 
which  he  suffered  Jack  to  borrow  and  to  read ;  Mr.  Peter 
Mostyn,  formerly  cocket-writer  in  his  majesty's  custom-house, 
and  an  ingenious,  well-informed  gentleman ;  Lieutenant  Hep- 
worth,  late  of  General  Powlett's  marines ;  and  Mr.  Underbill, 
retired  purser  of  the  king's  navy. 

To  be  a  purser  is  to  hold  a  thankless  office  :  it  is  he  who  is 
blamed  for  every  barrel  of.  damaged  pork,  and  for  every  box 
of  weevily  biscuit ;  he  can  please  none,  wherefore  it  is  best 
for  him  not  to  try.  As  for  the  pleasures  of  a  purser's  life,  I 
know  not  what  they  are.  He  must  face  the  dangers  of  the 
deep  with  the  rest ;  he  must  endure  tempest  and  shipwreck ; 
cannon-ball  and  grape-shot  spare  the  purser  no  more  than  the 
first  lieutenant,  if  he  be  on  deck ;  and  when  the  ship  is  cast 
away  the  purser  drowns  with  the  captain.  Yet  for  all  these 
perils  he  gets  neither  promotion  nor  honor.  Would  any  man 
boast  of  having  been  purser,  and  therefore  kept  below  in  the 
cockpit  with  the  surgeons  and  the  wounded  men,  during  the 
most  gallant  action  ever- fought?  Yet  there  is  one  consolation 
for  the  purser.  He  can,  and  does  continually,  by  his  accounts, 
his  purchases,  his  bribes  and  percentages,  suck  so  much  profit 
out  of  every  voyage  that  he  is  presently  able  to  leave  the  ser- 
vice and  purchase  a  cottage,  where,  with  a  patch  of  garden  to 
cultivate,  perhaps  a  wife  and  children  to  cheer  him,  a  few  com- 
panions, a  pipe  of  tobacco  and  a  glass  of  punch,  he  may  forget 
the  darkness  of  the  orlop-deck,  the  stink  of  his  storerooms, 


36  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

the  great  tallow-candle  in  the  glass  lantern,  by  the  light  of 
which  he  had  to  keep  his  accounts  and  inspect  his  stores ;  the 
rolling  of  the  ship,  the  thunder  of  the  cannon  in  a  battle,  the 
cries  of  the  wounded,  the  crash  and  wreck  of  the  great  ship 
on  a  rock,  or  the  alarm  of  fire  ;  yea,  and  even  the  daily  pur- 
gatory caused  by  the  tricks  of  the  midshipmen  and  the  gibes 
of  the  gunroom. 

These  gentlemen  met  nearly  every  night  at  the  "  Sir  John 
Falstaff,"  by  the  Upper- Water-Gate,  for  punch  and  conversa- 
tion ;  they  also  came  often  to  the  admiral's  house,  and  were, 
one  and  all,  kind  to  the  lad  who  was  thus  brought  among  them, 
and  freely  talked  with  him  ;  so  that,  being  of  an  inquiring 
mind,  and  thus  running  about  in  the  dock-yard,  and  talking 
with  old  officers,  common  sailors,  and  pensioners,  and  with  the 
help  of  the  apothecary,  who  from  the  first  loved  the  boy,  I 
think  there  was  no  part  of  the  world,  as  there  was  no  action 
of  recent  times,  with  which  Jack  was  not  as  well  acquainted 
as  if  he  had  been  there.  At  the  beginning  he  was  placed  un- 
der my  father,  who  made  him  begin  the  study  of  the  Latin 
language,  which  he  could  not  stomach,  and  would  never  will- 
ingly look  into  any  books  except  those  which  are  concerned 
with  the  sea,  such  as  Captain  Park's  "  Defensive  Wars  by  Sea," 
a  very  instructive  work ;  "  The  Practical  Sea-Gunner's  Com- 
panion," and  even  the  "  Rigging  Tables,"  over  which  he  would 
pore  contentedly  for  hours.  He  was  also  fend  of  reading  voy- 
ages, and  especially  those  volumes  of  Harris's  and  Purchas's 
collections — the  first  of  the  former,  and  the  first  and  fourth  of 
the  latter — which  are  concerned  with  the  South  Seas,  towards 
which  his  imagination  was  greatly  drawn  by  his  conversation 
with  Mr.  Brinjes  and  Mr.  Shelvocke.  That  he  was  always 
fighting  other  boys,  especially  the  rough  river-side  lads,  and 
was  seldom  without  some  external  sign  of  combat,  such  as  a 
black  eye,  cut  lip,  and  swollen  nose,  certainly  did  not  lessen 
him  in  his  patron's  regard,  because,  when  all  is  told,  the  most 
valuable  quality  in  a  sailor  is  the  love  of  fighting. 

So  strong  and  courageous  was  he,  so  ready  to  fight,  and  so 
uncommonly  backward  in  owning  himself  beaten,  that  none  of 
his  age  and  stature  dared  to  contend  with  him — save  at  stone- 
throwing  and  at  a  distance — except  one,  of  whom  mention  is 
here  made  ;  not  because  a  boy's  fights  are  matters  of  serious 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  37 

history,  but  because  the  fighting  between  these  two,  thus  be- 
gun, was  continued  after  both  became  men,  and  with  conse- 
quences most  important.  This  boy  was  the  son  of  a  boat- 
builder  in  the  town ;  his  name  was  Aaron  Fletcher.  In  strength, 
age,  and  stature,  nearly  the  same  as  Jack ;  in  bravery  and 
spirit,  equal  to  him.  Yet  whenever  they  fought — which  was 
often — Aaron  was  defeated,  because  he  lacked  the  dexterity 
and  quickness  of  eye  which  beat  down  mere  strength  and  ren- 
der courage  useless.  Yet  Aaron  would  not  own  to  inferiority  ; 
and  whenever  the  boys  met,  they  began  to  snarl  at  each  other 
like  a  pair  of  terriers,  and  the  first  stone  was  thrown,  the  first 
taunt  uttered,  the  first  blow  delivered,  and  then  at  it  again, 
like  French  and  English. 

Further,  that  he  neglected  his  Latin,  went  to  sleep  in  church, 
put  powder  in  the  negroes'  tobacco,  tied  ropes  across  the  road 
to  throw  down  belated  wayfarers,  and  played  a  thousand  pranks 
daily  may  be  admitted.  These  things  only  cost  him  a  flogging 
when  he  was  found  out,  and  endeared  him  more  and  more  to 
his  guardian. 

When  Jack  was  eleven  years  of  age,  the  admiral,  regardless 
of  my  father's  protestations  of  the  perils  encountered  by  those 
who  are  ignorant  of  the  classics,  placed  him  wholly  in  the 
charge  of  Mr.  Westmoreland,  who,  although  only  a  penman 
by  trade,  had  acquired  so  great  a  proficiency  in  arithmetic,  the 
rudiments  of  navigation,  the  taking  of  observations,  and  the 
working  of  logarithms  that  he  had  no  equal  in  the  town,  and 
was  perfectly  able  to  instruct  a  young  gentleman  before  he  went 
on  board.  In  all  these  branches  the  boy  showed  and  displayed 
an  uncommon  zeal  and  quickness.  But,  I  verily  believe,  if  he 
had  thought  that  the  study  of  Hebrew  or  Chaldsean  would 
have  helped  him  forward  in  his  profession,  he  would  have  en- 
treated my  father  to  teach  him. 

Mr.  Westmoreland,  his  master,  was  a  mild  and  gentle  creat- 
ure who  loved  nothing  but  the  study  of  mathematics  and  the 
art  of  fine  writing,  so  that  though  he  wrote  letters  for  any  who 
came  to  him,  and  copied  deeds  for  the  attorney,  and  wrote  out 
his  sermon  large  and  fair  for  the  Vicar  of  St.  Paul's,  he  always 
turned  from  these  labors  with  joy  to  his  books  and  his  calcu- 
lations. He  was  in  appearance  short  and  bent,  with  rounded 
shoulders,  and  with  a  hump  (which  made  the  boys  call  him 


38  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  My  Lord ").  His  voice  was  high  and  squeaky.  He  wore 
round  horn  spectacles ;  when  these  were  off,  you  perceived 
that  his  eyes  were  soft  and  affectionate.  His  forehead  was 
high  and  square,  and  he  wore  a  plain  scratch-wig.  He  was  a 
patient  teacher,  and  bore  an  excellent  character  for  upright- 
ness and  piety,  though  he  was  despised  by  the  rougher  sort, 
because,  although  he  was  now  no  more  than  forty,  or  there- 
abouts, he  could  not  fight,  or  even  defend  himself. 

He  lived  next  door  to  the  apothecary,  in  that  row  of  houses 
on  the  north  side  of  the  Trinity  Almshouses  where  reside  the 
better  sort  of  tradesmen,  such  as  the  sexton  of  St.  Nicolas ; 
Mr.  Skipworth,  the  principal  barber  and  wig-maker,  who  shaved 
all  the  gentry  in  the  place,  and  kept  four  assistants  continually 
employed  in  dressing  and  flouring  their  wigs  for  them ;  the 
master  measurer's  assistant,  and  the  master  shipwright's  assist- 
ant. But  these  honest  folk  did  not  call  Mr.  Brinjes  their 
equal.  He,  for  his  part,  took  his  pipe  nightly  at  the  "  Sir 
John  Falstaff  "  with  the  gentlemen,  while  they  used  the  "  Plume 
of  Feathers." 

Under  Mr.  Westmoreland's  instruction,  Jack  learned  all  that 
the  ingenious  penman  had  to  teach  him,  except  his  fine  hand- 
writing and  the  beautiful  nourishes  with  which  a  dexterous 
pen  can  adorn  a  page ;  and  by  the  time  he  was  twelve  years 
of  age  he  understood  the  use  of  the  compass,  the  sextant,  the 
ship's  charts,  all  the  various  parts  of  a  ship  and  her  rigging, 
and  a  great  deal  of  geography  and  naval  history. 

As  for  the  parts  of  a  ship,  he  learned  them  chiefly  in  the 
yard,  where  he  would  wander  among  the  sheds  and  watch  the 
building  of  the  ships,  the  repair  of  those  in  the  dry-dock,  and 
the  fitting  out  of  those  in  the  wet-dock,  the  bending  of  the 
great  beams  by  steam,  which  is  made  to  play  upon  them  until 
they  become  soft,  the  making  of  rope,  the  cutting  and  shaping 
of  pulleys  and  blocks,  the  forging  of  anchors,  and  every  part 
of  the  business  belonging  to  the  construction  of  ships.  Then, 
again,  he  learned  the  names  and  purposes  of  all  the  ropes, 
running  and  standing  gear,  sails,  flags,  signals,  sailing  rules, 
and  rules  for  action,  and  his  natural  curiosity  made  him  in- 
quire into  and  acquaint  himself  with  the  way  in  which  every- 
thing is  made,  and  may  be  repaired  or  replaced.  He  learned 
all  these  things  from  natural  eagerness  and  interest  in  every- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  39 

thing  concerning  a  ship ;  but  in  the  end  this  knowledge  stood 
him  in  good  stead,  because  there  is  no  detail  in  the  conduct 
and  construction  of  a  ship  which  ought  to  be  below  the  notice 
of  the  officers,  a  fact  which  many  commanders  forget,  leaving 
the  navigation  of  the  ship  to  the  master,  her  seaworthiness  to 
the  carpenter,  and  the  health  of  the  crew  to  the  purser.  Surely 
if,  as  hath  been  advanced  by  some,  every  boy  is  born  with  a 
clear  vocation  for  some  trade  or  profession,  just  as  Paul,  though 
an  apostle,  was'  also  a  tent-maker,  and  Luke,  at  first  a  phy- 
sician, and  Peter  a  fisherman  (afterwards  of  men),  then,  most 
certainly,  Jack,  by  right  divine  and  special  calling  of  Provi- 
dence, was  a  sailor. 

While  he  sat  every  morning  at  work  with  his  mild  instructor, 
Mr.  Westmoreland,  there  was  always  present  a  little  girl,  three 
years  younger  than  himself,  a  child  with  black  hair,  rosy  cheeks, 
and  big  black  eyes.  When  it  was  winter  weather  this  child 
sat  in  a  little  chair  beside  the  fire  ;  when  it  was  warm  and 
sunny,  she  sat  in  the  open  doorway.  She  was  a  grave  child, 
who  seldom  played  with  other  children ;  she  had  no  dolls  or 
toys  ;  she  took  great  pleasure  in  household  things,  and  from 
a  very  early  age  was  her  father's  housekeeper  ;  when  she  grew 
older  she  became  his  ruler  as  well,  ordering  things  as  seemed 
to  her  best.  And  though  her  father  was  so  fond  of  books  and 
learning,  this  girl  would  never  so  much  as  learn  to  read.  One 
does  not,  to  be  sure,  expect  girls  in  her  station  to  acquire  the 
arts  of  reading  and  writing,  if  only  because  they  have  no  books; 
and  never  have  occasion  to  write.  These  arts  would  be  as 
useless  to  them  as  the  knowledge  of  riding,  or  dancing  the 
minuet.  But  it  was  strange  that  Bess  should  be  so  different 
in  disposition  as  well  as  in  appearance  to  her  father ;  and 
stranger  still,  that  so  rickety  a  man  should  be  the  father  of  so 
strong  and  stout  a  girl.  As  for  her  mother,  no  one  knew 
whither  she  had  gone,  or  what  had  become  of  her  ;  it  was  said 
by  those  who  remembered  her  that  she  was  as  comely  as  her 
daughter,  but  a  termagant  and  a  shrew  in  temper,  who  led  her 
mild  husband  a  terrible  life,  even  sometimes  taking  the  broom- 
stick to  him,  and  beating  him  over  the  head  with  it,  poor  man ! 
or  laying  about  her  with  the  frying-pan,  as  ungoverned  women 
use  towards  those  husbands  who,  like  Mr.  Westmoreland,  are 
afraid,  or  too  weak  of  arm,  to  keep  them  in  submission  by  the 


40  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

same  methods.  She  left  her  husband  (he  bore  the  loss  with 
Christian  submission)  a  year  or  two  after  marriage,  and  was 
reported  to  have  been  afterwards  seen  at  Ranelagh  among  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  there,  dressed  in  a  hoop,  all  in  silk  and 
satin,  patches  and  paint,  and  fan  in  hand,  very  fine,  and  car- 
rying a  domino,  just  for  all  the  world  as  if  a  penman's  wife 
could  become  a  gentlewoman. 

From  the  very  first  a  singular  friendship  existed  between 
Jack  and  this  girl.  He  brought  her  apples,  comfits,  and  cakes, 
which  Philadelphy,  Castilla's  black  nurse,  made  for  him ;  he 
played  with  her,  and  made  her  laugh  ;  then  he  teased  her,  and 
made  her  cry ;  then  he  coaxed  her  into  good  temper  again. 
She  was  a  child  who  fell  into  the  most  violent  storms  of  pas- 
sion, which  none  but  Jack  could  subdue  ;  he  took  a  pleasure 
both  in  exciting  her  wrath  and  appeasing  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  never  tried  to  enrage  or  to  tease  Castilla,  perhaps 
because  she  was  possessed  of  such  extraordinary  calmness  and 
sweetness  that  it  was  impossible  to  provoke  her,  and  it  was 
waste  of  time,  even  for  a  boy  who  loves  teasing,  to  practise 
upon  one  who  regards  it  not.  Bess,  for  her  part,  was  one  of 
those  who  would  rather  be  teased  into  anger  than  neglected. 
It  was  pretty  to  see  how  she  would  sit  when  he  was  at  his 
lessons  with  her  father,  watching  him  silently,  and  how  she 
would  follow  him,  when  he  suffered  her,  submissive  and  obe- 
dient ;  though  there  was  nobody  else  in  the  world,  not  even 
her  father,  to  whom  this  wilful  girl  would  submit.  There  are 
some  men  to  whom  women  willingly  and  joyfully  submit  them- 
selves, and  become  their  slaves  with  a  kind  of  pride  ;  but  there 
are  others  to  whom  no  woman  will  submit.  Of  the  latter  kind 
was  Mr.  Westmoreland,  Bess's  father,  who  was  born  to  be 
ruled  by  his  wife.  Of  the  former,  Jack  was  one ;  when  he 
was  only  a  boy  the  sailors'  wives  and  daughters  in  the  street 
would  call  after  him  for  a  pretty  lad,  and  bid  him  come  and 
be  kissed ;  and  when  he  was  a  man  grown  the  maids  would 
look  at  him  as  he  passed  along  the  street,  and  would  follow 
him  with  longing  eyes.  But  if  a  woman  becomes  the  slave 
of  a  man,  she  will  have  him  to  be  her  slave  in  return ;  for 
where  there  is  great  love,  there  is  also  great  jealousy ;  and 
also  where  there  is  great  love,  there  is  also  the  possibility  of 
great  wrath  and  great  revenge — as  you  will  presently  discover. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  41 

In  one  word,  long  before  he  went  on  board  as  a  volunteer, 
young  Jack  Easterbrook  was  eager  to  feel  the  deck  rolling 
under  his  feet,  and  to  hear  the  first  shot  of  his  first  action ; 
he  was  also  well  advanced  in  all  the  knowledge  of  ropes  and 
rigging  that  the  gunner  has  to  teach  the  youngsters  aboard. 
It  is  further  to  be  noted  that,  at  this  early  age,  and  before  he 
went  to  sea,  the  boy  had  already  acquired  the  settled  convic- 
tion that  all  things  which  the  round  world  contains,  and  the 
kindly  earth  produces,  belong  especially  to  the  sailor  by  right 
divine,  and  were  intended  by  Providence  for  his  solace  when 
ashore  ;  that  to  provide  for  him,  and  for  his  comfort,  lands- 
men toil  perpetually ;  that  while  he  is  fighting  our  battles  for 
us,  we  are  gratefully  devising,  contriving,  making,  compound- 
ing, and  inventing  all  kinds  of  things  for  his  enjoyment  when 
he  comes  back  to  us ;  such,  for  instance,  as  strong  wine  and 
old  rum,  music  and  fiddles,  songs  and  dances,  tobacco  and 
snug  taverns  ;  he  is  to  have  the  best  of  all ;  for  him  the  most 
beautiful  women  reserve  their  favors,  and  desire  to  win  his 
affections  before  those  of  any  landsman  whatever.  Young 
and  old,  man,  woman,  boy,  and  girl,  we  all  loved  the  boy. 
There  was  not  in  Deptford,  or  in  Greenwich,  a  more  gallant 
lad,  one  more  brave  and  resolute,  nor  one  more  handsome. 
For  all  his  fortune  he  had  but  his  resolution  and  his  sword. 
And  he  went  forth  to  conquer  the  world  with  so  brave  a  heart 
and  a  carriage  so  sprightly  that  the  men  laughed  only  for  the 
pleasure  of  looking  upon  him,  and  the  women  cried.  I  am 
sure  that  the  true  soldier  of  fortune  hath  always  made  the 
women  cry. 

At  the  age  of  eleven,  also,  the  admiral,  by  permission  of  the 
captain,  was  enabled  to  place  the  name  of  the  boy  on  the  books 
of  the  Lenox  as  a  volunteer,  although  he  did  not  send  him  yet 
to  sea,  considerately  holding  that  this  age  is  too  tender  for  the 
rough  usage  of  boys  aboard  ship,  though  many  boys  are  sent 
away  so  early.  But  by  entering  him  on  the  ship's  company  he 
secured  that  his  rating  as  midshipman  should  begin  at  thirteen 
and  his  commission  as  lieutenant  be  obtained  at  nineteen.  So 
that,  although  the  boy  was  still  working  with  Mr.  "Westmore- 
land, he  was  supposed  to  be  cruising  with  Captain  Holmes 
aboard  the  Lenox. 


42  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW    JACK    FIRST    WENT    TO    SEA. 

IN  the  autumn  of  the  year  1V4V — the  last  but  one  of  the  war 
then  raging — the  admiral  judged  that  the  time  was  now  arrived 
when  the  boy  should  join  his  ship.  "  For,"  he  said,  "  the  lad 
is  already  nearly  thirteen,  and  tall  for  his  age ;  and  he  knows 
more  than  most  youngsters  have  learned  after  twelve  months 
at  sea.  He  grows  masterful,  too,  and  will  be  all  the  better  for 
the  rope's-end  which  the  gunner  hath  in  store  for  him,  and  for 
the  mast-head,  where  he  will  spend  many  pleasant  hours.  And 
as  for  the  captain — Dick  Holmes  is  not  one  who  will  skulk,  or 
suffer  his  crew  to  skulk.  What  better  can  happen  for  a  boy 
than  to  sail  with  a  fighting  captain  ?" 

"'Tis  a  brave  lad,  admiral,"  said  my  father — 'twas  at  the 
club  or  nightly  assemblage  at  the  Sir  John  Falstaff.  "  By  such 
stuff  as  this  let  us  pray  that  England's  fleets  will  always  be 
manned.  They  have  never  heard  of  Selden's  Mare  Clausum, 
and  know  not  his  argument,  which  is,  to  my  mind,  conclusive. 
Nevertheless,  they  go  forth  to  support  those  arguments  by  a 
kind  of  blind  instinct,  which  I  take  to  be  in  itself  a  clear  proof 
of  his  sound  reasoning." 

"I  have  never  met  any  Mary  Clausum,"  said  the  admiral, 
"to  my  knowledge.  Polly  Collins  there  was  in  my  time,  at 
Point — a  black-eyed  jade.  But  Jack  is,  as  yet,  full  young  to 
think  of  any  Polly  of  them  all." 

"  Nay,  'tis  the  title  of  a  learned  work.  I  meant  only  that  if 
England  is  to  be  queen  of  the  seas,  which  France  and  Spain 
still  dispute  with  us,  and  are  likely  to  dispute  for  a  long  while, 
it  is  well  that  we  have  such  boys,  and  plenty  of  them.  There 
can  never  be  too  many  Britons  born  in  the  world." 

"  True,  doctor ;  especially  if  we  go  on  expending  them  in 
this  fashion." 

"  We  send  forth  this  tender  child,  sir,"  continued  the  Vicar, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  43 

of  St.  Paul's,  "  to  a  hard  and  rough  life.  He  may  be  wrecked ; 
he  may  be  killed  in  action ;  he  may  lose  his  limbs ;  there  are  a 
thousand  perils  in  his  way.  Yet  we  do  not  pity  him,  because, 
if  his  life  must  needs  be  short,  it  will  be  honorable.  And  he 
is  in  the  hands  of  Providence." 

"  That  is  true,  doctor.  Though  as  to  danger,  hang  me  if  I 
think  he  is  worse  off  aboard  ship  than  he  would  be  ashore,  what 
with  sharks  and  lawyers,  rogues  and  murderers,  robbers  and 
cheats,  to  say  nothing  of  the  women.  And  on  board  ship  they 
cannot  get  at  a  man.  And  as  for  hardships — why,  every 
youngster  looks  forward  to  being  an  admiral  at  least,  and  to 
lead  his  squadron  into  a  victorious  engagement — and  some- 
times he  does  it,  too." 

"  As  for  me,  admiral,"  sa'id  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  I  shall  bid  good- 
bye to  the  lad  with  a  vast  deal  of  pleasure.  He  will  go  never 
a  day  too  soon.  Keep  a  lad  too  long  and  he  gets  stale.  As 
for  dangers,  I  think  you  are  right.  But  there  are  dangers 
afloat  which  the  landsman  does  not  know,  and  more  dangers 
than  the  enemy's  shot  or  a  gale  of  wind.  A  boy  may  have  a 
bully  for  first  lieutenant,  or  a  tyrant  for  captain."  Here  his 
only  eye  flashed  fire,  from  which  one  may  conjecture  that  he 
had  himself  experienced  this  accident,  and  still  cherished  the 
memory ;  "  or  a  skinflint  and  a  cheese-scraper  for  a  purser — " 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Mr.  Underbill,  "  the  purser  is  forever  in 
fault." 

"  Or  a  lickspittle  for  a  master ;  there  are  rogues  and  scoun- 
drels afloat  as  well  as  ashore.  Mark  you,  if  it  is  bad  for  the 
midshipmen,  'tis  worse  for  the  crew ;  in  such  ships  are  flog- 
gings daily,  and  mutinous  words  whispered  'tween-deck,  with 
rope's-ending  and  continual  flogging,  no  matter  how  smart  a 
man  may  be ;  and  yet  they  wonder  why  men  rise  sometimes 
and  murder  their  officers  and  carry  off  the  ship  under  the  black 
flag.  Pirates?  Why,  even  if  they  knew  that  the  gibbet  was 
already  built  whereon  they  were  to  hang  in  chains  till  they 
dropped  to  pieces,  do  you  think  they  would  not  have  their  re- 
venge, and  then  a  free  and  a  merry  life,  if  only  for  a  short 
year  or  two  before  they  die  ?"  and  with  that  Mr.  Brinjes  looked 
about  him  so  fiercely  that  for  a  while  no  one  spoke. 

"These  words  are  better  said  ashore  than  afloat,"  said  the 
admiral,  presently.  "  I've  tied  up  a  man  and  given  him  six 


44  THE    WORLD    WENT   VERY   WELL   THEN. 

dozen — ay,  or  hanged  him  for  mutiny — for  less  than  that,  Mr. 
Brinjes." 

"  Very  like,  very  like,"  returned  Mr.  Brinjes,  recovering  his 
good  temper.  "  I  will  remember  it,  admiral,  if  ever  I  ship  with 
you.  As  for  the  boy,  now — this  boy  of  ours — he  will  do  well, 
and  will  turn  out  a  credit  to  us  all,  admiral.  I  have  never 
known  a  more  resolute  lad,  or  one  better  fitted  for  the  work 
before  him.  I  have  taught  him,  for  my  own  part,  how  the 
land  lays  as  regards  the  wickedness  of  men,  both  ashore  and 
afloat.  He  is  prepared  for  a  good  deal ;  and  so  far,  I  think, 
never  was  a  lad  sent  abroad  better  prepared.  He  knows  as 
much,  doctor,  not  to  speak  boastfully,  as  a  Roman  Catholic 
confessor.  Now  when  a  boy  is  fully  acquainted  with  devilry, 
he  need  fear  no  devils,  male  or  female." 

The  ship  on  whose  books  he  was  borne — namely,  the  Lenox, 
Captain  Richard  Holmes — was  now  refitting  at  Sheerness,  be- 
ing under  orders  to  join  the  West  Indian  squadron  of  seven 
ships  under  Rear-Admiral  Knowles,  at  Port  Royal,  Jamaica. 
A  beautiful  ship  she  was,  nearly  new,  a  third-rate,  of  seventy 
guns,  though  at  this  time  she  carried  no  more  than  fifty-six, 
and  a  complement  of  six  hundred  men.  You  shall  hear  pres- 
ently with  what  singular  good-fortune  the  boy  began  his  course. 
This  good-fortune  continued  with  him  unbroken  until  the  event 
which  I  have  to  relate,  so  that,  in  thinking  of  Jack,  I  am  re- 
minded of  that  Lydian  king  who  was  told  by  the  philosopher 
to  count  no  man  happy  until  the  end.  Always,  in  every  ship, 
he  gained  the  good  opinion  of  the  superior  officers ;  always  the 
actions  in  which  he  fought  were  victorious ;  promotion  and  dis- 
tinction, prize-money,  and  escape  from  shot  and  cutlass  wound 
— what  more  could  a  sailor  desire  ?  To  be  sure,  there  was  one 
voyage  which  proved  disastrous.  Even  here  he  escaped  drown- 
ing when  so  many  perished.  Besides,  this  was  in  time  of  peace. 

It  is  generally  believed  that  boys  are  shipped  off  to  sea  be- 
cause they  are  too  loutish  and  stupid  for  the  arts  by  which 
landsmen  rise.  But  we  do  not  hear  that  such  lads  rise  to  dis- 
tinction by  reason  of  loutishness.  This  is  not  the  way  with 
those  who  live  in  a  dock-yard  town.  There  the  flower  of  the 
youth  flock  to  the  service,  and  there  is  no  lack  of  volunteers, 
even  for  ordinary  seamen,  in  time  of  war.  There  are  skulkers, 
it  is  true,,  but  they  are  more  common  at  Wapping  than  at  Dept- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  45 

ford.  As  for  officers,  happy  that  boy  who  wears  the  king's 
uniform ;  envied  is  he  among  his  companions.  You  may  judge 
he  wants  but  little  admonition  to  encourage  him  in  zeal. 

"  Boy,"  said  the  admiral,  catechising  the  lad  before  he  joined 
his  ship,  "  what  is  thy  first  duty  ?" 

"  Respect  for  superiors,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

"  Right ;  and  the  next  ?  No  argument  on  board.  And  when 
fighting  begins,  don't  gape  about  the  ship  to  duck  for  any  can- 
non-shot that  flies  overhead,  but  stand  steady  at  quarters,  eyes 
open,  and  hands  ready.  What  ?  Many  a  chance  comes  of 
showing  your  mettle  when  least  expected,  as  when  a  boarding 
attack  is  repelled,  or  the  word  is  given  to  leap  on  board  and  at 
'em.  Be  ever  ready,  yet  not  too  forward,  lest  it  seem  a  reflec- 
tion upon  thy  betters.  Wait  till  thy  time  comes.  When  it 
does  come — but,  by  the  Lord,  Jack,  I  have  no  fear  of  thee !" 

Other  directions  the  admiral  gave  the  boy,  which  may  be 
here  omitted,  the  more  particularly  as  they  referred  to  the  con- 
duct which  a  boy  should  observe  in  port  and  on  shore ;  and 
the  admiral's  warnings  were  plain  and  clear,  and  such  as  may 
be  read  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs.  My  father  also  admonished 
the  boy,  particularly  on  the  wickedness  of  profane  swearing. 
Of  this  he  was  likely  to  hear  only  too  much,  and,  indeed,  his 
captain  was  reported  to  be  one  who  enforced  his  orders  with  a 
great  deal  of  hard  swearing.  My  father  also  addressed  a  few 
words  to  this  young  sailor  on  the  evils  of  immoderate  drinking, 
too  common  on  land,  though  restricted  by  wholesome  disci- 
pline at  sea.  And  he  instructed  the  boy  how  he  should  govern 
himself,  keep  his  temper  in  control,  guard  his  tongue,  fight  his 
shipmates  no  more  than  was  necessary  for  self-respect  and 
honor ;  and  how,  when  the  time  should  come  when  he  himself 
was  to  be  put  in  authority,  he  should  be  merciful  in  punish- 
ment, and  err  on  the  side  of  leniency,  remembering  that  though 
a  man's  back  must  suffer  for  his  sins,  he  should  not  be  torn  to 
pieces  and  cruelly  lacerated — as  is  the  practice  on  board  some 
ships — save  for  the  most  heinous  offences  against  order,  mo- 
rality, and  discipline.  "  The  ancient  Romans,"  added  my  father, 
"  could,  if  they  chose,  flog  a  slave  to  death.  Yet  it  was  counted 
infamous  to  use  this  power.  The  captain  of  a  king's  ship  has 
this  power  also,  seeing  that  he  may,  if  he  so  please,  order  a 
man  as  many  as  five  hundred  lashes — a  truly  dreadful  punish- 


46  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ment,  under  which  the  strongest  man  may  succumb.  Reserve 
this  power  when  thou  hast  it,  Jack.  Three  dozen,  or  even  one, 
in  the  case  of  young  sailors,  may  be  as  efficacious  as  six  dozen  ; 
a  wholesome  discipline  is  better  served  by  moderation  than  by 
cruelty." 

I  know  not  how  far  my  father's  admonitions  produced  good 
fruit.  In  after-time,  Jack  was  ready  enough  to  rap  out  a  pro- 
fane word.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  beloved  by  the  men  on 
account  of  his  punishments,  which  were  as  certain  after  offences 
as  the  stroke  of  the  ship's  bell,  but  never  cruel.  It  were  to  be 
wished  some  captains  on  land  as  well  as  at  sea  would  remember 
that  three  dozen  may  be  sometimes  as  good  as  six  dozen.  It 
was  but  yesterday  that  a  poor  fellow,  a  grenadier,  under  sen- 
tence to  be  shot  for  desertion,  had  his  punishment  commuted, 
as  they  called  it,  to  five  hundred  lashes.  He  appealed,  and  the 
previous  sentence  was  confirmed ;  therefore  he  went  boldly  to 
his  death,  thinking  it  better  to  be  shot  than  to  be  tortured  by 
the  lash  until  he  died. 

Then  we  all  engaged  upon  Jack's  sea-chest ;  and  I  suppose 
no  bride  ever  contemplated  her  new  furniture  and  house  linen 
with  more  pride  and  satisfaction  than  Jack  bestowed  upon  his 
chest.  It  was  strong  and  stoutly  made,  with  a  till  and  two 
trays.  It  contained  his  uniform  coat,  his  watch  coat,  a  glazed 
hat  for  night  watch  in  bad  weather,  two  hats  each  with  a  gold 
loop  and  a  cockade,  his  stockings,  shirts  (they  were  of  the 
finest  kind,  fit  for  a  young  gentleman,  with  lace  ruffles),  his 
boots,  handkerchiefs,  crimson  sash,  and  his  hanger.  Besides 
these  things  there  were  his  log-books,  ruled  and  prepared  for 
him  by  Mr.  Westmoreland ;  pens  cut  for  him  by  the  same 
hand ;  a  quadrant,  with  a  day  and  a  night  glass ;  the  "  Ele- 
ments of  Navigation,"  the  "  Sailor's  Vade-Mecum,"  the  "  Sea- 
Gunner's  Companion,"  and  a  book  on  the  "  Method  of  Comput- 
ing Observations,"  so  that  he  was  amply  provided  with  his 
favorite  reading.  To  these  were  added,  by  my  father,  a  copy 
of  the  Holy  Bible,  with  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  These 
things,  with  a  pocket  compass  and  a  tin  pannikin  or  two,  a 
book  of  songs, -and  a  few  other  trifles,  made  up  Jack's  outfit. 

When  all  was  ready  and  the  time  of  departure  was  come, 
the  admiral  put  into  his  hand  a  purse  full  of  guineas,  and  told 
him  that  until  such  time  as  he  should  be  rated  midshipman,  an 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  47 

allowance  of  thirty  guineas  a  year  should  be  given  to  him. 
This  is  a  liberal  addition  to  a  boy's  pay,  and  I  doubt  whether 
any  other  youngster  on  board  the  Lenox  possessed  so  splendid 
an  addition  to  his  two  pounds  a  month. 

On  the  morning  of  his  departure  our  young  hero  appeared 
dressed  for  the  first  time  in  his  blue  uniform  coat,  with  the 
gold  loop  in  his  hat,  and  his  hanger  at  his  side,  trying  to  look 
as  if  he  had  worn  it  for  years,  and  was  unconcerned  about  his 
personal  appearance.  He  was  going  down  to  Sheerness  in  a 
tilt-boat,  accompanied  by  two  of  the  admiral's  negroes,  to  get 
his  sea-chest  aboard,  and  provided  with  a  letter  for  the  captain. 
We  all  went  down  to  the  Stairs  with  him — the  admiral,  my  fa- 
ther, Castilla,  and  myself,  with  Philadelphy.  We  found,  also 
waiting  on  the  Stairs,  Mr.  Westmoreland  and  Bess,  Mr.  Brinjes, 
and  the  boy  Aaron  Fletcher. 

"Farewell,  Master  Jack,"  said  Mr.  Westmoreland,  in  his 
cracked  and  squeaky  voice — "  farewell ;  I  shall  never  have  so 
good  a  pupil  again.  Forget  not  the  rules  for  the  right  placing 
of  the  decimal  point,  and  do  not  neglect  practice  in  the  tables 
of  logarithms." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Jack,  shaking  his  hand.  "  I  will  remem- 
ber. Good-bye,  Bess."  He  laid  his  arm  round  the  girl's  neck 
— she  was  now  ten  years  of  age,  and  as  tall  as  Castilla,  though 
a  year  younger — and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks.  "  Good-bye, 
my  girl ;  give  me  another."  He  kissed  her  again.  Bess  said 
nothing ;  but  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  and  her  father 
drew  her  away  to  make  room  for  his  betters. 

Then  Jack  saw  Aaron,  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  Aaron  Fletcher.  There  isn't  time  for  a  fight  this 
morning,  Aaron,"  he  said ;  "  give  us  your  hand." 

Aaron  took  the  proffered  hand,  but  doubtfully. 

"  I  thought  I'd  come  to  see  thee  start,  Master  Jack,"  he  said; 
"  and  I  wanted  to  say — " 

"  Well?'*  asked  Jack,  for  the  lad  hesitated. 

"  To  say  when  you  come  back — if  it's  next  year  or  next  ten 
years — I'll  fight  you  again,  for  all  your  gold  loop." 

"  So  you  shall,  Aaron ;  so  you  shall,"  said  Jack,  with  another 
laugh.  "  That's  a  bargain." 

"  And  so,  with  a  kiss  to  Castilla  and  a  shake  of  the  hand  to 
me,  and  after  receiving  the  blessing  of  the  admiral,  who  needed 


48  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

not  to  spoil  its  solemnity  by  a  profane  oath,  he  leaped  into  the 
boat,  took  the  strings,  and  ordered  the  men  to  give  way.  But 
he  looked  back  once,  and  waved  his  hand,  crying  out,  "  Good- 
bye, Bess."  So  his  last  thought  was  of  the  penman's  girl. 

"  When  he  comes  home,  Aaron,"  said  Bess,  wiping  her  tears, 
"  Jack  shall  beat  you  into  a  jelly." 

"I'll  break  every  bone  in  his  body  for  him,"  said  Aaron. 
"  Oh,  I  wish  he  would  come  back  to-morrow !  And  you  may 
be  there  to  see,  if  you  like." 

"  I  shall  tell  him  the  first  thing  when  he  comes  back.  What  ? 
You  dare  ask  him  to  fight  ?  You  ?  I  wonder,  for  my  part,  that 
a  midshipman  should  dirty  his  fist  upon  your  face. 

The  admiral  looked  after  the  receding  boat,  his  red  face  full 
of  affection  and  emotion.  Beside  him  stood  my  father,  in  wig 
and  cassock,  as  becomes  a  doctor  of  divinity.  Mr.  Brinjes,  in 
his  brown  morning  coat  and  scratch  wig,  looked  a  strange  com- 
panion to  them.  But  the  watermen  on  the  Stairs  stood  aside 
even  more  respectfully  for  him  than  for  the  admiral.  He  might, 
indeed,  knock  them  over  the  head  with  his  gold-headed  stick, 
but  he  could  not,  like  Mr.  Brinjes,  scatter  rheumatic  pains  and 
toothache  among  them. 

And  here  a  singular  thing  happened.  There  is  no  man  more 
free  from  superstitious  terrors,  I  think,  than  myself.  Yet  I 
cannot  but  remember  that  while  Castilla  cried,  and  I  myself 
should  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  cry,  but  for  the  un- 
manliness  of  the  thing,  the  old  witch-woman — she  was  nothing 
less — this  Mandingo  prophetess,  whose  powers  were  as  real  as 
those  believed  to  belong  to  Mr.  Brinjes — began  to  shiver  and 
to  shake,  and  her  teeth  to  chatter.  To  be  sure,  it  was  a  morn- 
ing in  December,  but  mild  for  the  time  of  year,  and  the  sun 
shining.  No  doubt  some  cold  breath  struck  her  face,  and 
made  her  shiver.  But  to  Philadelphy  everything  unexpected 
was  full  of  prophetic  warning,  could  she  read  it  aright. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?"  she  murmured.  "  What  in  the  world 
can  it  mean  ?  I  dun  know  what  this  shiver  means ;  Mas'r  Jack 
come  home  again,  I  think,  and  play  mischief  with  some  of  us. 
There's  trouble  sure  for  somebody ;  trouble  and  crying.  Dun 
you  be  afraid,  Miss  Castil ;  ole  Philadelphy  know  plenty  words 
to  keep  off  the  devil." 

She  meant  that  she  had  plenty  of  incantations  or  charms  by 


Good-bye, 


He  laid  his  arm  round  the  girls  neck,  and  kissed 
her  on  both  cheeks." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  49 

which  to  avert  and  ward  off  evil.  I  am  sure  there  was  never  a 
witch- woman  or  Obeah  man  on  the  African  coast  or  in  Jamaica 
had  more  spells  and  secrets  of  magic  and  unholy  craft  than  this 
old  negress. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MIDSHIPMAN   JACK. 

THUS  was  Jack  fairly  launched  and  started  upon  his  profes- 
sion. As  regards  a  boy's  first  days  at  sea,  they  are  reported  by 
all  to  be  the  most  miserable  in  his  whole  life.  For  the  quarters 
of  the  youngsters,  volunteers  and  midshipmen,  on  a  ship  of  the 
line  are  beneath  the  lower  gun-deck,  on  what  they  call  the  cock- 
pit or  the  orlop.  This  is  a  dark  and  gloomy  place,  below  the 
level  of  the  water ;  no  daylight  can  ever  come  to  it,  and  there 
can  be  little  access  of  pure  air.  Here  the  purser  has  his  stores, 
the  surgeon  keeps  his  drugs,  the  bo's'n  and  carpenter  their 
ropes  and  spare  gear,  so  that  the  place  smells  continually  of 
tallow,  beef,  pork,  tar,  and  bilge-water.  It  swarms  with  rats 
and  cockroaches ;  in  time  of  battle  the  wounded  are  brought 
here,  near  the  after-hatchway,  as  to  the  safest  part  of  the  ves- 
sel. Here  the  youngsters  hang  their  hammocks  and  stow  their 
chests.  As  for  their  mess,  it  is  with  the  surgeon's  mate,  the 
master's  mate,  the  purser's  mate,  and  the  captain's  clerk.  To 
boys  brought  up  delicately  the  food  is  coarse  ;  new-comers  have 
to  run  the  gauntlet  of  rough  jokes  and  the  horse-play  which, 
among  these  lads,  passes  for  wit ;  it  is  that  kind  of  wit  to  which 
the  only  answer  is  force  of  fist.  The  young  sea-lion's  play  is 
always  like  a  fight,  and  generally  ends  in  one.  Therefore  if  a 
boy  on  board  a  ship  love  not  fighting  he  had  better  tie  a  kedge- 
anchor  round  his  neck  and  drop  overboard.  But  if,  like  Jack, 
he  loves  and  is  always  ready  for  a  fight,  and  will  engage  with 
the  first  who  offers,  however  big  and  strong  he  may  be,  then 
the  society  of  the  midshipmen's  mess  may  become  delightful  to 
that  boy,  for  the  wish  of  his  heart  will  be  gratified.  I  believe 
this  was  Jack's  case  ;  he  hath  told  me  how,  for  a  week  or  two, 
he  fought  every  day ;  and  how,  at  the  termination  of  each  en- 
counter, he  found  reason  to  thank  Aaron  Fletcher  for  his  tough- 
3 


50  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ness  and  obstinacy,  which  had  taught  him  useful  lessons.  Fur- 
ther, there  are  tricks  to  be  endured,  such  as  stealing  of  a  boy's 
breeches  when  he  is  dressing,  so  that  he  is  late  on  deck,  and  is 
consequently  mastheaded ;  or  the  greasing  of  his  head  with 
tallow  while  he  is  asleep ;  with  many  other  nauseous  jokes,  all 
of  which  have  to  be  borne  with  good-humor  until  an  opportu- 
nity occurs  of  revenge ;  or  the  little  tyranny  of  one  who,  be- 
cause he  is  a  head  taller,  thinks  he  can  do  as  he  pleases ;  one 
such  did  Jack  fight  every  day — getting,  to  be  sure,  the  worst 
of  it — until  the  big  fellow  had  no  more  stomach  for  the  fight, 
and  left  his  adversary  in  peace.  As  for  the  gloom  of  his  quar- 
ters, and  their  narrowness  and  discomfort,  why,  Jack  had  seen 
them  often  enough,  and  knew  what  to  expect,  and  cared  not 
two  pins  for  them.  As  for  sea-sickness,  Jack  never  felt  it. 
The  rough  sea-fare  he  liked ;  and  as  for  the  daily  duty  and  the 
sharp  discipline,  these  were  part  of  the  profession,  and  designed 
for  the  safety  and  government  of  some  hundred  lives  and  the 
accomplishment  of  the  ship's  purpose.  If  a  sailor  would  be 
happy,  he  must,  I  take  it,  acquire,  as  soon  as  possible,  the  feel- 
ing of  association.  Everything  has  to  be  shared;  if  he  take 
on  board  with  him  and  nourish  the  desire,  common  to  r.ll  lands- 
men, of  getting  as  much  comfort  for  himself  as  he  can  seize, 
he  will  never  be  easy.  Comfort,  I  suppose,  and  ease  of  body, 
are  served  out  on  board  a  man-o'-war  in  rations  and  pannikins, 
like  the  rum. 

Jack's  good-luck  began,  as  I  have  mentioned,  with  his  first 
voyage ;  that  is  to  say,  whatever  good-fortune  can  come  to  one 
so  young  fell  to  him,  as  you  shall  see. 

The  Lenox  sailed  on  December  5,  1747,  and  meeting  with 
none  of  the  enemy  on  her  voyage,  joined  Admiral  Knowles  at 
Port  Royal,  in  Jamaica,  on  February  8 — a  short  passage,  the 
ship  being  a  fast  sailer,  and  ably  handled. 

As  this  war  took  place  when  I  was  a  child,  coming  happily 
to  an  end  when  I  was  but  twelve  years  of  age,  I  know  little 
about  it,  save  that  my  early  recollections  are  all  of  activity  in 
the  yard,  the  going  and  coming  of  ships,  the  building  and 
launching  of  ships,  the  hurry  and  the  business  of  war.  There 
were  some  very  fine  engagements  at  sea,  of  which  I  know  only 
one  or  two ;  those,  namely,  in  which  Jack  was  engaged ;  and 
there  were  some  memorable  actions  fought  on  land,  of  which 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  51 

that  of  Dettingen  was  one.  There  are  in  every  century  so 
many  wars ;  there  are  in  every  war  so  many  actions,  every  one 
of  which,  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  have  fought  on  the  victori- 
ous side,  and  especially  in  the  eyes  of  the  admiral  or  general, 
is  so  memorable  that  it  will  remain  forever  in  the  history  of  the 
world  as  a  feat  of  arms  never  to  be  forgotten.  This  vanity  is 
like  that  of  the  poet,  who  thinks  that  for  an  ode  to  "  Fame,"  or 
to  "  Victory,"  published  in  the  European  or  the  Lady's  Maga- 
zine, he  is  covered  with  glory  and  crowned  with  an  everlasting 
wreath  of  bays.  One  immortal  victory  is  succeeded  by  anoth- 
er ;  one  general  causes  his  predecessor  to  be  forgotten ;  one 
poem  is  followed  by  another ;  then  both  are  suffered  to  repose 
between  the  leather  binding  of  the  volumes  which  contain  them. 
It  is  only  the  work  of  the  painter  which  lives  on  the  walls  for 
all  men  to  admire  in  all  ages  to  come. 

I  say,  then,  that  whatever  imperishable  glory  surrounds  the 
names  of  those  who  conducted  for  the  allies  this  war,  I  know 
of  none  except  that  which  belongs  to  one  squadron  in  the  last 
year  of  the  war.  An  account  of  it  may  be  read  in  Mr.  John 
Hill's  History  of  the  British  Navy,  itself  compiled  from  the  pa- 
pers of  the  late  Honorable  Captain  George  Berkeley,  R.N., 
which  stops  short  at  this  chapter,  the  book  having  been  pub- 
lished at  the  beginning  of  the  next  war.  What  I  know  of  it  is 
taken  from  the  description  of  these  affairs  given  me  by  Jack 
himself. 

The  Lenox,  then,  arrived  at  Port  Royal  on  February  8,  1748. 
The  captain  was  heartily  welcomed  by  Admiral  Knowles,  who 
was  on  the  point  of  sailing  on  an  expedition  from  which  the 
best  was  hoped.  By  the  greatest  exertions,  the  ship  was  pro- 
visioned in  readiness  to  join,  and  the  squadron — Governor  Tre- 
lawny  accompanying  the  admiral — left  Port  Royal  on  the  13th, 
with  design  to  attack  Santiago,  or  Saint.  Jago,  the  most  impor- 
tant town  and  port  of  Cuba,  next  to  Havana.  The  squadron 
was  strengthened  by  a  detachment  of  two  hundred  and  forty 
men  of  the  governor's  regiment.  The  fleet  was  met  with  con- 
trary winds,  which  were  so  long  and  persistent  that  the  admi- 
ral resolved  upon  changing  the  plan  of  the  expedition.  It  was 
therefore  decided  to  make  an  attack  upon  Port  Louis,  on  the 
south  side  of  Hispaniola.  Thither,  therefore,  the  wind  being 
favorable,  they  sailed,  and  arrived  in  good  order.  On  the  8th 


52  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

of  March,  the  ships  being  then  almost  within  pistol-shot  of  the 
walls,  the  attack  was  commenced ;  the  cannonade  lasted  three 
hours,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the  enemy's  guns  were  silenced, 
and  the  governor  proposed  to  capitulate.  He  sent  an  officer  off 
with  propositions,  which  the  admiral  refused,  and  sent  back  his 
own,  giving  an  hour  for  consideration.  Before  the  end  of  that 
time  they  were  accepted,  and  the  place  was  taken.  "  I  be- 
lieved," said  Jack,  telling  me  of  this,  his  first  action,  "  that 
every  cannon-shot  that  struck  the  ship  or  flew  through  the  rig- 
ging was  going  to  knock  my  head  off,  not  thinking  that,  by  the 
time  I  heard  the  noise  of  it,  the  danger  was  over.  Yet  I  was 
resolved  to  stand  at  my  quarters,  and  do  my  duty  as  well  as  I 
could ;  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  help  ducking  my 
head,  till  the  gunner  spied  me,  and  found  time  to  fetch  me  a 
clout  on  the  head,  saying,  *  You  fool,  that  cannon-ball  was  half 
a  mile  beyond  the  ship  before  you  ducked.  Hold  up  your  head, 
and  remember  that,  when  it  is  knocked  off,  you  will  have  no 
time  to  duck  out  of  its  way.'  So,  with  that,  I  plucked  up, 
and  was  comforted  to  see  the  men  at  the  guns,  none  of  them 
killed,  and  none  of  them  ducking.  So  I  was  highly  ashamed 
of  myself,  till  they  told  me  afterwards  that,  at  the  first  engage- 
ment, most  everybody  ducks.  As  for  the  captain,  he  was  on 
the  quarter-deck,  and  scorned  to  show  the  least  fear ;  and  the 
men  at  their  quarters  only  laughed,  even  when  a  shot  struck 
the  ship  and  fragments  of  the  timbers  went  flying  about.  But 
it  was  fine  to  see  how,  one  by  one,  we  silenced  the  guns.  Only 
I  should  like  to  see  fighting  at  close  quarters.  This  pounding 
with  the  big  guns  at  long  range  is  not  to  my  taste." 

There  was  some  work  for  the  boats  as  well,  for  the  enemy 
set  fire  to  one  of  their  ships,  and  endeavored  to  send  her  along- 
side the  admiral's  ship ;  but  boats  were  sent  off,  which  towed 
her  clear,  and  took  possession  of  two  more  designed  for  the 
same  purpose,  though  the  enemy's  musketry  fired  smartly  on 
them  all  the  time.  Our  loss  in  the  whole  action  was  only  ten 
men  killed,  among  whom  were  Captan  Renton,  of  the  Stafford, 
and  Captain  Gust,  a  volunteer,  with  sixty  wounded.  The  loss 
of  the  enemy  was  a  hundred  and  twenty-eight  killed.  The  fort 
contained  seventy-eight  cannon  and  a  vast  quantity  of  ammuni- 
tion and  stores,  the  whole  of  which  was  taken  possession  of, 
and  the  fort  blown  up. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  53 

I  dare  say  it  was  a  small  business,  but  it  seemed  a  great  one 
to  the  boy,  who  thus  took  part  in  an  action  for  the  first  time. 

This  affair  concluded,  the  admiral  proceeded  to  put  into  exe- 
cution his  design  upon  St.  Jago. 

The  attack,  however,  failed,  because  they  found  a  chain 
across,  with  two  large  ships  and  two  small  ones,  filled  with 
combustibles,  and  ready  to  be  set  on  fire  at  the  first  attempt  to 
break  the  chain.  This  was  mortifying,  and  added  nothing  to 
the  admiral's  reputation.  But  six  months  later  it  was  Jack's 
good-fortune  to  take  part  in  a  spirited  action  with  the  Spanish 
squadron  between  Havana  and  Tortugas.  It  was  in  October, 
and,  I  believe,  after  the  peace  had  been  signed ;  but  this  they 
knew  not.  The  Spanish  fleet  consisted  of  the  same  number  of 
ships  as  our  own,  but  larger,  and  with  double  the  number  of 
men.  There  was  a  court-martial  afterwards,  and  the  admiral 
was  reprimanded  for  not  shifting  his  flag  when  his  own  ship 
was  disabled.  Therefore  the  action  is  not  one  of  those  in  which 
the  country  can  take  the  most  pride.  But  this  had  nothing  to 
do  with  a  young  midshipman,  and  no  one  ever  denied  that  the 
Lenox,  for  her  part,  was  admirably  fought  and  handled,  seeing 
that  when  the  Cornwall,  the  admiral's  ship,  was  disabled,  the 
Lenox  had  to  sustain  the  fire  of  the  whole  of  the  squadron  un- 
til the  arrival  of  the  Canterbury  and  the  Warwick.  At  sun- 
down the  Spaniard  began  to  retreat,  but  not  before  their  great 
ship,  the  Conquestador,  was  taken.  Admiral  Knowles  has  been 
further  reproached  with  not  prosecuting  the  pursuit  with  great- 
er vigor.  However  that  may  be,  he  fell  in,  two  days  afterwards, 
with  the  Spanish  admiral's  ship,  the  Africa,  and  blew  her  up. 
Whatever  might  have  been  our  success,  it  cannot,  therefore,  be 
denied  that  we  took  two  out  of  seven  ships,  and  compelled  the 
rest  to  run  away.  As  for  Jack,  he  had  learned  now  to  receive 
the  enemy's  broadsides  without  ducking.  "But  what  amazed 
me  most,"  he  told  us,  "  was  that  there  was  no  shouting  or  crying 
among  the  men.  They  were  all  as  cool  as  if  they  were  firing  a 
salute  at  Spithead.  When  a  man  was  wounded  and  fell  he  was 
carried  below,  so  there  was  not  much  of  the  groaning  and  shriek- 
ing that  landsmen  talk  about.  Why,  those  fellows  of  ours  will 
have  a  leg  sawn  off  and  never  groan.  Whereas,  if  a  man  is 
killed,  you  can't  expect  him  to  groan  afterwards.  To  be  sure, 
I've  never  seen  a  fight  with  a  boarding  party.  And  I  say,  Luke, 


54  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

the  first  time  you  see  a  man  killed,  when  he  falls  down  in  a  heap 
on  the  deck,  and  his  face  turns  quite  white,  and  his  arms  and 
legs  lying  out  any  way,  as  if  he  didn't  care  what  was  going  to 
happen,  it  makes  you  feel  sick  and  dizzy.  But  the  men  only 
laugh,  because  every  one  takes  his  turn,  and  you  can't  escape 
the  bullet  that  is  bound  to  kill  you.  If  it  wasn't  for  knowing 
that  nobody  would  be  able  to  feel  happy  and  work  with  a  will 
while  the  shots  are  flying  about.  Luke,  there's  another  thing  " 
— here  his  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper — "  there's  a  thing  I  never 
knew  before  nor  suspected.  There's  cowardly  captains,  even  in 
the  king's  navy ;  captains  who  won't  crowd  on  the  canvas  in 
pursuit,  and  drop  out  of  action,  pretending  to  be  disabled. 
They  never  told  me  that ;  not  even  Mr.  Brinjes  told  me.  And 
half-hearted  captains.  Why,  if  all  they  say  is  true,  we  should 
have  been  inside  St.  Jago,  instead  of  sheering  off  after  a  broad- 
side or  two.  But  there's  more  brave  captains  than  the  other 
sort,  and  so  you'll  see  when  next  we  have  a  brush." 

For  the  Lenox,  with  Admiral  Knowles's  squadron,  had  now 
returned,  and  the  ship  was  paid  off,  and  Jack  had  made  his  way 
home  again,  when  you  may  be  sure  we  killed  the  fatted  calf  and 
gave  him  welcome.  He  was  gone  on  that  voyage  for  the  best 
part  of  two  years,  and  was  now  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  looked 
eighteen,  being  so  big  and  strong.  The  sun  and  the  wind  had 
painted  his  cheeks  a  lively  color,  his  hands,  were  brown,  his 
speech  was  rough,  and  his  bearing  was  manly.  Wonderful  it 
was  to  see  the  confidence  and  the  manliness  of  one  so  young, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  pride  he  took  in  the  exploits  of  his  ship. 
These,  we  presently  discovered,  lost  nothing  in  the  telling.  He 
brought  home  a  most  beautiful  necklace  of  red  coral,  which 
had  been  found  in  the  fort  of  Port  Louis,  belonging,  no  doubt, 
to  one  of  the  mulatto  or  half-caste  women,  who  were  both  the 
slaves  and  the  mistresses  of  the  Spaniards  in  those  parts.  He 
showed  it  to  me  one  day,  and  I  expected  he  would  give  it  to 
Castilla.  Fortunately  I  told  her  nothing  about  it,  and  pres- 
ently I  saw  it  round  the  neck  of  Bess  Westmoreland.  It  is  so 
common  at  Deptford  to  see  girls  of  her  class  decorated  with 
gold  chains,  coral  necklaces,  jewelled  brooches,  and  all  kinds 
of  finery  (for  a  few  days  only,  because  they  speedily  send  the 
things  to  London  to  be  sold),  that  no  one  asked  who  had  given 
the  child  an  ornament  so  unsuitable  to  her  position.  As  for 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  55 

Castilla  and  myself,  if  Jack  before  lie  went  away  was  going 
to  be  a  hero,  he  was  now  actually  become  one ;  we  were  fully 
persuaded  that  when,  at  Port  Louis,  the  boats  towed  off  the 
fire-ship  with  the  musket-balls  spattering  in  the  watey,  it  must 
have  been  Jack  who  sat  in  the  stern ;  and  when  the  Conquesta- 
dor  surrendered  it  must  have  been  in  terror  at  the  sight  of  this 
youthful  conqueror,  terrible  with  his  sword  in  his  hand ;  and 
when  the  Africa  blew  up,  it  was  because  the  Spanish  admiral 
perceived  that  he  could  not  hope  to  contend  any  longer  with 
this  young  sea-lion ;  and,  considering  the  admiral's  want  of 
spirit,  it  was  nothing  but  the  presence  of  Jack  that  saved  the 
fleet  from  disaster.  I  began  to  draw  pictures,  representing  ep- 
isodes in  the  three  actions  in  which  our  hero  had  taken  part, 
such  as  Jack  repelling  boarders,  laying  about  him  with  such  an 
intrepid  air  as  commanded  terror  and  admiration  in  all  who  be- 
held it.  Behind  him  stood  the  British  tars,  ready  to  back  him 
up  with  cutlass,  pistol,  and  pike.  Or  another,  in  which  I  dis- 
played the  two  ships  at  close  quarters,  with  grappling-irons, 
and  Jack  leaping  singly  upon  the  enemy's  deck,  a  pike  in  one 
hand  and  a  cutlass  in  the  other ;  and  there  was  Jack  laying  the 
gun  that  was  to  hit  the  enemy  between  wind  and  water,  and  so 
sink  her  ;  he  performed  the  operation  with  thoughtful  face,  the 
captain  standing  by,  wrapped  in  admiration.  They  were  won- 
derful pictures.  Jack  laughed  at  them,  but  did  not  deny  that 
perhaps  there  might  be  truth  in  the  subjects.  I  gave  them  to 
Castilla,  who  put  them  away.  She  hath  since  assured  me  that 
she  hath  kept  them  out  of  regard  for  the  hand  which  drew 
them.  That  is  doubtless  true,  since  she  says  so.  But  I  think 
there  must  have  been,  at  the  same  time,  some  admiration  for 
the  hero  of  those  designs. 

I  do  not  describe  the  joy  with  which  the  admiral  received 
the  boy,  nor  the  pleasure  with  which  he  listened  to  his  account 
of  the  actions  he  had  witnessed.  As  for  the  manner  in  which 
Jack  sought  out  Mr.  Brinjes,  everybody  knows  the  contempt 
with  which  the  combatant  branch  regards  the  civil  branch, 
though  the  surgeon's  mate,  by  order  of  the  navy  office,  is  con- 
sidered a  gentleman,  and  messes  with  the  midshipmen,  so  that 
there  was  condescension  in  a  midshipman  visiting  an  apothe- 
cary. Yet,  as  Mr.  Brinjes  was  an  old  friend,  Jack  could  not 
but  treat  him  with  kindness,  mingled  with  superiority.  More- 


56  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

over,  he  bad  by  tbis  time  himself  visited  the  places  of  which 
Mr.  Brinjes  loved  most  to  speak.  He  had  seen  the  negroes  of 
Port  Royal  and  Spanish  Town,  and  those  of  Bridgetown,  Bar- 
badoes ;  and  of  St.  Kitt's  ;  though  as  yet  he  had  never  seen  the 
Guinea  coast.  .One  is  not  afloat  for  nearly  two  years  without 
learning  and  hearing  things.  So  that  for  every  tale  which  Mr. 
Brinjes  had  to  tell  Jack  had  now  half  a  dozen.  And  I  remarked 
that,  like  the  apothecary,  Jack  loved  to  figure  as  the  hero  in  bis 
own  stories.  This  is  a  temptation  to  which  men  are  all  liable, 
and  especially  sailors  ;  because,  I  suppose,  they  ar£  looked  upon 
by  the  world  as  certain  to  have  had  adventures ;  and  there  is 
no  man  in  Greenwich  Hospital  who  has  never  been  wrecked, 
or  cast  away,  or  been  attacked  by  savages  and  by  sharks,  or 
had  a  brush  with  pirates. 

As  regards  the  quality  of  these  stories  and  the  art  of  making 
and  telling  them,  if  there  is  any  art  in  so  simple  a  thing  as  the 
telling  of  a  sailor's  yarn,  it  must  be  owned  that  the  apothecary 
showed  himself  the  superior.  For  it  is  required  of  such  a  tale 
that  there  must  be  fighting  in  it,  with  much  bloodshed,  narrow 
escapes,  starving  in  boats,  pirates,  and  desert  islands.  All  of 
these  were  supplied  by  Mr.  Brinjes,  whereas  poor  Jack  had  as 
yet  nothing  but  his  three  battles.  Bess,  you  may  be  sure, 
came  to  sit  with  us  in  the  room  behind  the  shop,  and  to  hear 
Jack  talk.  She  sat  in  the  window-seat,  her  hands  folded  in  her 
lap,  gazing  at  her  hero  all  the  time,  and  speaking  not  a  word 
save  when  Mr.  Brinjes  or  I  ventured  to  interrupt  the  flow  of 
Jack's  manly  conversation. 

Two  days  after  Jack  returned  the  promised  fight  with  Aaron 
Fletcher  came  off  in  my  presence  and  that  of  Bess,  who,  I  be- 
lieve, was  the  chief  instigator  of  the  combat,  having  a  vehe- 
ment desire  to  see  Aaron  punished  for  certain  disrespectful 
words  spoken  in  Jack's  absence. 

He  was  a  little  older  than  his  adversary,  and  now  bigger  of 
frame,  and  as  hard  as  was  to  be  expected  of  a  young  man  who 
spent  his  days  and  nights  chiefly  in  a  fishing-smack — he  called 
it  a  fishing-smack — between  Ramsgate,  or  Leigh,  in  Essex,  and 
the  coast  of  Holland  or  France. 

They  fought  in  the  gardens  behind  the  Stowage.  It  is  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  history  to  describe  an  encounter  with  fists 
between  two  boys.  Sufficient  it  is  to  say  that  Jack  took  off 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN".  57 

his  coat  laughing,  and  the  other  scowling ;  that  they  fought  for 
an  hour,  with  some  vicissitudes ;  Aaron,  so  to  speak,  carrying 
heavier  metal,  but  Jack  handling  his  guns  with  more  dexterity  ; 
that  Bess  stood  by,  clapping  her  hands  when  Jack's  fist  went 
home,  and  taunting  Aaron  when  he  fell,  which  made  both  com- 
batants the  fiercer ;  that,  finally,  Aaron  was  disabled,  and  had 
to  retire  from  the  conflict  by  the  dislocation  of  a  finger,  which 
gave  Jack  the  victory.  But  both  were  so  mauled  and  bruised, 
their  faces  so  covered  with  blood  and  swollen,  that  the  battle 
must  have  ended  in  neither  being  able  to  see. 

"I'll  fight  you  again — and  again  after  that,"  said  Aaron, 
mopping  his  face,  with  savage  looks. 

What  did  they  fight  for?  Well,  one  was  a  gentleman  and 
the  other  a  mechanic  ;  one  was  a  midshipman  in  the  king's  ser- 
vice, and  the  other  was  a  smuggler.  Surely  these  things  were 
enough.  If  you  want  more,  remember  that,  even  at  sixteen,  a 
youngster  may  fall  in  love  and  be  jealous.  Aaron  was  already 
in  love  with  the  black  eyes  of  Bess,  who  was  now  nearly  twelve, 
but  like  a  Spanish  girl  in  this  respect,  that  at  twelve  she  might 
have  passed  for  fifteen  at  least.  And  Bess,  who  would  have 
none  of  him,  thought  of  nobody  but  our  handsome  Jack. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COUNTESS    OF    DO 

WITH  the  return  of  the  fleets  and  the  signing  of  the  Peace 
of  Aix-la-Chapelle  came  a  great  reduction  of  the  naval  esti- 
mates, which,  in  the  year  1750,  provided  for  no  more  than  ten 
thousand  men  instead  of  fifty  thousand.  This  step,  although 
it  returned  thousands  of  men  to  the  merchant  service,  the  coast 
service,  the  colliers,  the  fishing  trade,  and  the  river,  sent  back 
more  than  were  wanted,  so  there  was  great  distress  with  men 
out  of  work  all  round  the  coast,  and  a  large  increase  of  smug- 
gling. Many  regiments  of  marines  were  disbanded  at  the  same 
time ;  and  so  men  who,  having  been  long  engaged  in  active 
service,  had  lost  the  arts  of  peace  and  forgotten  their  former 
trades,  were  thrown  upon  the  country  seeking  employment,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  finding  none.  Again,  from  the  dock-yards 
3* 


58  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

were  dismissed  an  immense  number  of  artificers,  such  as  skilled 
shipwrights,  carpenters,  figure-head  carvers,  painters,  decorators, 
and  the  like,  besides  a  host  of  unskilled  laborers,  who  had  been 
receiving  good  wages,  and  now  found  themselves  without  work, 
and  for  the  most  part  without  money.  Add  to  this  that  the 
trade  of  those  who  get  their  living  out  of  the  ships  and  the 
sailors  and  by  navy  contracts  was  suddenly  shrunk  into  nothing, 
like  a  bladder  which  is  pricked,  and  you  will  understand  why, 
though  the  country  breathed  and  the  merchants  of  London  and 
Bristol  rejoiced,  the  seaports  and  dock-yard  towns  groaned  and 
lamented.  As  for  the  shipwrights,  there  is  always  employment 
for  some  in  one  or  other  of  the  private  building-yards,  such  as 
Pett's  or  Taylor's,  or  in  the  repairing-docks,  as  the  Acorn  and 
the  Lavender ;  but  what  are  these,  even  when  working  their 
utmost,  compared  with  the  king's  yards  and  their  continual 
demand  in  time  of  war  ?  It  is  true  that  a  large  number  of  dis- 
banded soldiers,  marines,  and  artificers  received  grants  of  land 
in  Nova  Scotia,  and  were  transported  thither.  But  there  are 
not  many  in  proportion  to  the  whole  number  who  can  suddenly 
become  farmers,  and  who  fear  not  the  cold  of  that  inhospitable 
place.  As  for  the  unfortunate  sailors,  there  were,  to  be  sure, 
always  new  hands  wanted  for  the  merchant-ships ;  but  a  man 
cannot  look  to  get  a  berth  as  soon  as  he  desires,  and  other  work 
they  can  do  none.  No  one  ever  heard  of  a  sailor  following 
the  plough,  or  becoming  a  shoemaker,  or  working  in  a  carpen- 
ter's shop.  It  seems  as  if  keeping  the  watch,  bending  the  sails, 
and  working  the  guns  make  a  man  unfit  for  other  kinds  of  work. 
The  disbanded  soldier  may  turn  his  hand  to  anything,  but  not 
the  sailor.  So  that  when  his  pay  and  prize-money  are  all  spent 
— which  never  takes  the  honest  fellow  long,  so  ready  is  the  as- 
sistance of  his  friends — he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  lean  against 
the  posts  or  to  stand  about  the  river-side,  waiting  for  a  chance. 
Often  for  a  lodging  he  is  reduced  to  sleeping  on  the  bulks  in 
the  open  street,  and  for  his  food  to  take  whatever  may  be  given 
him  by  the  charity  of  his  fellows.  And  at  last,  where  this  fails, 
if  he  cannot  ship  even  on  a  hoy  or  a  hay-barge,  what  wonder  if 
he  takes  to  running  a  fishing-smack  over  to  France  for  brandy  ? 
And  then  one  hears  of  a  desperate  affray  with  the  king's  officers 
on  the  Sussex  coast;  and  these  are  the  times  when  the  roads 
become  infested  with  footpads — men  driven  desperate  by  pov- 


Bess  stood  by,  clapping  her  hands  when  Jack's  fist  went  home." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEX.  59 

erty,  who  might  have  remained  honest  fellows  had  they  been 
kept  to  their  colors  or  to  their  ships ;  and  in  the  houses  of 
Deptford,  where  there  had  been  plenty,  and  the  laughter  of  lit- 
tle children,  were  now  crying  women  and  hungry  babes,  with 
the  dreadful  temptations  of  poverty  and  hunger.  I  am  sure 
there  is  no  more  terrible  temptation  than  this ;  let  us  never 
cease,  rich  and  poor  together,  to  pray  in  the  words  commanded, 
"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 

There  are  some  who  think  that  the  custom  of  disbanding  the 
troops  and  paying  off  the  men  is  an  evil  one,  because,  they 
argue,  first,  if  you  would  secure  peace,  be  prepared  for  war,  as 
is  shown  in  lively  fashion  by  the  fable  of  ^Esop ;  and  if  you 
are  always  ready  to  fight,  the  enemy  will  be  less  ready  to  give 
provocation ;  and  next,  a  better  plan,  if  the  forces  must  be  re- 
duced, would  be  to  diminish  them  gradually,  by  suffering  those 
to  go  who  wished,  and  enlisting  no  more,  so  that  speedily  and 
without  injustice  an  establishment  on  a  peace  footing  could  be 
secured.  But  in  the  navy  office  prudent  counsels  have  never 
yet  prevailed  (I  say  this  not  of  my  own  wisdom,  but  from  gen- 
eral consent  of  those  who  have  had  opportunity  of  studying 
things  naval),  and  I  suppose  will  not,  until  some  great  calamity 
befall  our  country,  and  make  us  call  for  neither  Whig  nor  Tory, 
but  for  those  who  desire  the  greatness  and  the  prosperity  of 
these  islands. 

Sad  indeed  was  the  case  of  the  younger  officers — the  mid- 
shipmen like  Jack — who  had  little  interest,  and  now  feared 
that  they  might  never  become  lieutenants.  The  more  choking 
it  was  because  everybody  had  been  looking  for  a  long  war, 
with  plenty  of  prize-money  and  quick  promotion.  And  now, 
in  the  estimation  of  many,  not  only  was  peace  signed,  but  it 
was  assured,  and  would  be  lasting;  because,  these  sagacious 
politicians  of  the  coffee-house  asked,  why  should  France  wish 
to  make  war  again,  having  received  not  only  so  severe  a  lesson, 
but  also  terms  of  peace  far  more  honorable  than  she  could  have 
expected  ?  The  events  of  the  next  few  years  have  shown  very 
plainly  how  anxious  France  has  been  to  keep  her  word  and  to 
maintain  peace.  Perhaps,  now  that  we  have  at  last  happily 
turned  her  out  of  Canada  and  the  East  Indies,  and  reduced  her 
power  in  the  West  Indies,  her  turbulence  may  abate  for  a  time. 
But  one  knows  not ;  we  are  nearing  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 


60  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

century,  and  we  cannot  tell  what  may  happen  before  that  end 
arrives.  However,  the  merchant  adventurer  naturally  desires 
peace,  and  therefore  is  ready  to  prophesy  that  peace  will  be 
lasting,  because  we  are  always  glad  to  believe  what  we  desire. 
I  have  heard  that  the  activity  of  the  French  yards  was  never 
relaxed  during  these  years  of  peace ;  certainly  they  never  com- 
menced any  war  with  more  magnificent  fleets  than  those  which 
they  sent  to  sea  a  few  years  later,  in  the  year  1756. 

As  for  Jack,  after  being  ashore  for  two  or  three  months,  and 
finding  no  prospect  of  employment,  he  began  to  hang  his  head 
and  to  be  despondent,  longing  to  be  afloat  again,  and  seeing  no 
chance.  In  truth,  there  was  little  in  a  landsman's  life  that  he 
cared  for,  being,  at  this  period,  not  much  better  than  a  sea-cub, 
a  species  of  animal  little  loved  by  any  except  those  who  know 
that  he  will  grow  into  a  lion.  That  is  to  say,  he  took  no  joy 
in  reading,  unless  it  was  the  description  of  a  sea  action — al- 
ways, to  my  thinking,  tedious  to  read.  Jack,  who  did  not  think 
so,  used  to  illustrate  the  history  with  the  aid  of  walnuts  placed 
in  position,  and  showing,  to  his  imagination,  better  than  any 
drawing,  how  the  fight  was  conducted.  The  gentle  arts  of 
poetry,  music,  painting,  and  dancing  had  no  charms  for  him. 
He  liked  not  the  society  of  ladies,  old  or  young,  nor  the  polite 
conversation  which  pleases  them ;  and  as  yet  he  had  not  felt 
the  passion  of  love.  I  believe  he  was  set  against  the  sex  by 
Mr.  Brinjes,  who  loved  no  woman  except  such  as  had  a  black 
and  shining  skin,  and  lived  somewhere  about  Old  Calabar.  As 
for  Bess,  she  was  the  most  congenial  companion  to  him  at  this 
time,  because  she  never  tired  of  listening  to  his  talk  about  the 
sea,  and  what  he  was  going  to  do.  But  as  for  love,  he  had 
none  for  her  at  this  time.  Of  this  I  am  assured. 

Everybody  has  heard  of  the  Countess  of  Dorset ;  how  she 
set  sail  in  order  to  navigate  the  great  Pacific  Ocean,  and  never 
returned ;  and  how  for  many  years  nothing  was  known  of  her 
fate  any  more  than  is  known  of  the  fate  of  Sir  Cloudesley 
Shovel.  It  is  matter  for  regret  that  the  single  officer  who  was 
saved  out  of  that  wreck  and  survived  the  incredible  sufferings 
which  followed  should  not  have  been  able  to  narrate  in  lively 
and  moving  fashion  the  particulars  of  this  grievous  disaster. 
Surely  a  history  as  instructive  as  that  of  Commodore  Anson 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  61 

might  be  made  of  this  voyage.  But  now,  I  suppose,  it  will 
never  be  written. 

Soon  after  the  peace,  the  Countess  of  Dorset,  which  was  lying 
up  in  ordinary,  was  fitted  out  in  Deptford  Yard.  She  carried 
an  armament  of  forty-four  guns,  and  was  a  frigate  well  reported 
as  a  sailer  and  for  behaving  well  in  heavy  weather ;  ships  being, 
as  is  well  known,  capricious  in  this  respect ;  so  that  you  may 
construct  two  vessels  of  exactly  the  same  measurements,  on  the 
same  lines,  and  yet,  while  one  is  easily  handled  and  is  obedient 
to  her  helm,  the  other  shall  be  lubberly  and  difficult  to  steer ; 
and  one  shall  sail  fast  and  the  other  slow :  so  that  when  any 
vessel  is  launched  it  is  impossible  to  tell  beforehand  what  she 
will  be  like,  and  one  cannot  judge  by  the  behavior  of  a  sister 
ship.  As  for  her  destination,  it  was  as  yet  unknown ;  but  some 
thought  she  was  to  form  part  of  the  Jamaica  fleet. 

One  afternoon,  however,  the  admiral  called  Jack,  and  held  a 
serious  conversation  with  him. 

"Thou  art  now,  my  lad,"  he  said,  "truly  becalmed  and  in 
the  Doldrums ;  or,  worse  still,  in  a  leeward  tide,  and  drifting 
on  the  rocks.  In  a  word,  if  a  berth  be  not  found  before  long, 
thou  mayst  give  up  all  further  hopes  of  the  king's  navy.  I  am 
sorry  for  thee,  lad.  There  is  John  Company,  to  be  sure ;  they 
have  a  hundred  vessels,  they  say ;  but  their  commanders  are 
fond  of  their  ease ;  and,  besides,  without  interest  in  the  India 
House,  how  can  one  hope  for  promotion  ?  It  would  grieve  me 
to  see  thee  mate  of  a  merchantman.  Yet,  what  help  2" 

"  I  can  ship  as  an  able  seaman,  sir,  as  soon  as  I  am  old 
enough." 

"  Ay  !  ay  !  But  we  must  hope  for  something  better.  Listen, 
my  boy.  I  have  this  morning  conversed  with  the  commissioner 
of  the  yard,  Captain  Petherick,  who  has  imparted  to  me  a  secret. 
The  Countess  of  Dorset  is  bound  for  a  cruise  in  the  Southern 
Seas.  I  have,  therefore,  sent  an  application  in  thy  name  to  the 
navy  office.  Because,  Jack,  though  it  is  not  the  service  I  could 
have  wished  for  thee,  yet,  seeing  that  there  is  little  chance  of 
anything  better,  we  must  e'en  make  the  best  of  it,  and  if  we 
get  thee  billeted  on  her  as  midshipman,  we  shall  be  fortunate. 
The  voyage  will  be  long  and  tedious.  There  will  be  no  fight- 
ing, unless,  which  I  doubt,  the  captain  judges  it  well  to  seek 
out  and  capture  the  Manila  galleon.  They  say  there  are  islands 


62  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

out  there  filled  with  black  pirates  and  cannibals,  but  I  never 
heard  of  any  honor  to  be  obtained  in  fighting  these  poor  devils. 
When  you  have  gotten  across  the  Pacific  Ocean,  there  may  be 
engagements  with  Chinese  and  Malay  fellows.  They  have 
stink-pots  and  poisoned  arrows.  You  will  have  to  fight  them 
at  close  quarters  with  pike  and  cutlass  and  boiling  pitch,  as 
well  as  with  guns.  But  where  is  the  glory  of  such  an  action 
compared  with  an  engagement,  yard-arm  to  yard-arm,  with  a 
Frenchman  or  a  Spaniard  of  equal  weight  ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  go,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

"  The  Lord  knows,"  continued  the  admiral,  "  when  you  would 
come  back  again.  And  meantime,  while  you  and  your  com- 
pany were  cruising  in  unknown  waters,  another  war  might 
break  out,  and  you  would  lose  your  chance,  which,  indeed, 
would  be  the  devil." 

"  But  if  no  war  break  out,  then  my  chance  may  be  lost  the 
other  way." 

"  It  would  so,  Jack.  Perhaps  we  might  get  thee  a  berth — 
but  of  midshipmen  there  are  plenty,  and  of  ships  in  commis- 
sion there  are  few.  Yet  the  commissioner  tells  me  they  have 
secret  intelligence  that  the  French  are  busy  in  Toulon  and 
Kochelle.  What  doth  this  mean  if  peace  is  to  continue  ?  And 
complaints  have  been  received  from  New  England  of  infrac- 
tions by  the  French.  Is  this  a  sign  of  peace  ?  However,  we 
know  not.  The  king  grows  old  ;  the  young  prince  is  reported 
to  be  of  a  pacific  disposition — but  talking  is  vain." 

The  admiral's  application  proved  successful.  Jack  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  Countess  of  Dorset. 

When  Mr.  Brinjes  heard  of  this  appointment  and  the  sailing 
orders  of  the  ship,  he  showed  a  strange  emotion. 

"What?"  he  asked.  "Thou  too  art  going  to  the  South 
Seas,  Jack  ?  Why,  it  may  be  that  the  ship — but  I  know  not — 
'tis  unlikely,  or — which  I  doubt.  Thou  art  young  yet,  Jack ; 
but  if  I  tell  thee  my  secret,  though  without  imparting,  yet,  the 
latitude  and  longitude,  while  in  those  seas,  thinking  of  what  I 
shall  tell  thee,  and  mindful  of  the  future,  thou  mayst  take  ob- 
servations, and  when  the  ship  comes  home  we  will  talk  further 
of  the  matter.  For  look  ye,  my  boy,  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  not 
die  before  I  have  seen  again  that  place — but  wait  until  I  have 
told  thee.  What  ?  You  think  I  am  but  a  poor  apothecary  ad- 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          63 

mittcd  to  sit  among  gentlemen  because  I  can  cure  their  gout 
for  them,  and  feared  by  the  common  sort  because  I  can  bring 
rheumatism  upon  them?  You  shall  see.  You  think  I  have 
nothing  but  the  few  guineas  in  my  till.  Why,  then,  listen,  and 
keep  the  secret  for  me ;  though,  if  all  the  world  knew,  no  one 
would  be  one  whit  the  for'arder.  Yet  keep  the  secret;  and 
now,  boy,  reach  me  down  the  chart." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MR.    BRINJES    CONCLUDES    THE    STORY    OF    HIS    VOYAGE. 

THOSE  who  will  read  this  history  through,  and  then  consider 
the  various  parts  of  it,  will  not  fail  to  be  amazed  with  the  man- 
ner in  which  Jack  was  prepared  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  fate 
and  for  the  close  of  his  life  (if  that  hath  yet  happened)  by  a 
crowd  of  circumstances  which  seem  to  have  indicated  it  and 
led  him  irresistibly.  For,  first,  it  was  permitted  to  him — a  rare 
thing — to  make  the  acquaintance  of  two  who  had  voyaged  upon 
the  South  Seas — I  mean  as  officers,  and  of  the  better  sort ;  for 
of  those  who  had  set  foot  on  Juan  Fernandez,  fought  the  Creo- 
lian  Spaniards  at  Payta,  Guayaquil,  and  Panama,  and  insulted 
their  settlements  in  the  Philippine  Islands,  there  were  many  in 
Greenwich  Hospital,  and  the  Trinity  Almshouses,  of  Deptford. 
Of  these  two,  one,  the  apothecary,  would  relate  his  adventures 
in  a  moving  manner,  so  as  to  make  a  boy's  cheek  burn  and  his 
pulses  beat.  The  other,  it  is  true,  was  a  phlegmatic  man,  but 
there  were  parts  even  of  his  narrative — as,  for  example,  when 
the  castaways  built  a  crazy  boat,  thirty  feet  long,  and  put  to  sea 
only  forty  strong,  yet  resolved  to  attack  the  first  Spanish  ves- 
sel they  sighted,  though  they  had  but  three  cutlasses  and  half 
a  dozen  muskets  and  a  small  cannon,  for  which  there  was  no 
stand,  so  that  it  had  to  be  fired  from  the  deck ;  and  for  all  their 
provision  nothing  but  stinking  conger-eel,  dried  in  the  sun, 
and  one  cask  of  water,  fitted  with  a  musket  barrel,  by  which 
each  man  drank  in  turn — I  say  that  there  were  parts  of  his  nar- 
rative which  would  fire  the  boy,  and  make  his  eyes  bright.  For 
the  hearing  of  such  sufferings  only  stimulates  a  boy  who  is 
intended  by  nature  for  a  sailor.  Next,  there  were  the  books 


64  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

lent  to  him  by  Captain  Petherick,  all  of  voyages,  especially  in 
Oceanus,  Australis,  and  Magellanica.  And,  thirdly,  he  was, 
while  yet  a  boy,  to  sail  across  the  great  Pacific  Ocean,  which  is 
said  to  fill  those  who  have  once  voyaged  on  its  waters  with  a 
strange  love  and  desire  to  return  thither,  if  only  to  meet  with 
shipwreck  and  starvation.  What  follows,  however,  was  the 
story  which  Mr.  Brinjes  now  completed — a  strange  story,  truly. 
"  I  told  you,"  he  began,  "  that  we  were  driven  off  our  course 
north  of  the  latitude  in  which  we  hoped  to  sight  the  great  Ma- 
nilla ship.  She  carried  I  know  not  how  many  cannon,  and  I 
know  not  how  many  hundreds  of  men.  But  we  were  a  hundred 
and  twenty  strong,  all  well-armed,  resolute  men,  and  they  were 
Creolian  Spaniards,  a  cowardly  crew,  who,  when  they  have  fired 
their  small-arms,  can  do  no  more,  and  when  the  English  lads 
board  the  craft,  fall  to  bawling  for  quarter,  and  strike  their  flag. 
There  is  but  one  rule  in  these  waters ;  it  is  to  attack  the  Span- 
ish flag  whenever  you  find  it,  and  to  look  for  no  resistance  once 
you  come  to  close  quarters,  unless  the  officers,  which  sometimes 
happens,  are  French;  then  they  will  fight.  Now  mark  what 
happened  to  us.  The  same  tempest  which  drove  us  so  far 
north  caught  the  Manilla  ship  as  well,  of  which  we  were  in 
search,  and  drove  her  also  out  of  her  course,  treating  her  even 
more  roughly  than  ourselves.  We  sighted  her  one  morning  at 
daybreak.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  her ;  there  are  not 
many  ships  of  her  build  in  the  North  Pacific.  As  soon  as  we 
were  near  enough  to  make  her  out,  all  hands  were  called  to 
quarters,  and  we  prepared  for  action  with  joyful  hearts,  loading 
the  guns  and  small-arms,  and  sharpening  cutlasses  and  pikes. 
As  we  drew  nearer,  and  the  daylight  stronger,  the  sea  being 
now  quite  smooth,  save  for  a  gentle  swell,  we  perceived  a 
strange  thing,  namely,  that  her  mainmast  and  her  foremast  were 
gone  by  the  board,  only  her  mizzen  standing ;  her  bows  and 
bulwarks  were  stove  in,  and  her  rudder  was  lost.  She  was  drift- 
ing about  upon  the  water,  helpless  as  a  log.  She  had  no  sails 
set;  most  of  her  rigging  was  cut  away.  We  fired  a  shot  by 
way  of  signal,  but  received  no  reply ;  then  we  drew  nearer.  Not 
a  man  could  be  seen.  Were  they  all  hiding  down  below,  or 
were  they  hatching  some  treachery?  We  ranged  presently 
alongside,  cautiously  standing  to  our  guns,  and  expecting  noth- 
ing less  than  a  broadside.  But  the  guns,  on  the  upper  deck 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  65 

at  least,  were  not  manned,  nor  was  there  a  soul  to  be  seen,  or 
the  least  sign  of  life.  However,  our  boarding  party  leaped 
aboard  with  a  shout,  expecting  some  trick  of  the  enemy.  Boys, 
there  was  not  a  man  left  in  all  that  great  ship.  How  they  got 
off — by  what  boats  or  on  what  raft — I  know  not,  nor  did  I  ever 
learn.  She  was  deserted ;  she  was  floating  about  those  lonely 
seas,  a  great  treasure-ship,  with  all  her  treasure  still  on  board. 
Why,  she  was  not  ours  by  right  of  conquest ;  she  was  ours  by 
the  law  of  the  sea,  because  she  was  a  derelict.  We  were  pirates, 
if  you  please,  or  rovers,  or  adventurers.  Whatever  we  were, 
that  ship  was  our  own  because  we  picked  her  up." 

"  What !"  cried  Jack.     "  No  fighting  ?" 

"  None,  my  lad.  On  that  voyage  there  was  no  fighting  with 
the  Spaniards  from  beginning  to  end.  As  for  this  great  in- 
heritance, into  which  we  came  without  a  question  or  a  blow,  'twas 
all  left  undisturbed  on  board  with  the  precious  cargo  of  which 
it  formed  a  part.  Strange  it  was  to  walk  'tween  decks  and  see 
them  filled  with  the  bales  of  silks,  the  spices,  the  rich  stuffs, 
that  the  galleon  was  carrying  to  Acapulco.  There  was  also  a 
beautiful  collection  of  small-arms,  and  swords  with  jewelled 
hilts,  pistols  with  carved  stocks,  brass  carronades,  and  such 
carved  work  in  wood,  for  the  staterooms  and  the  captain's  cab- 
in, as  one  could  sell  in  London  for  its  weight  in  silver  at  least. 
There  was  also  a  great  quantity  of  wine,  which  was  seasonable, 
for  our  spirits  were  well-nigh  drunk  out,  and  there  was  no  prob- 
ability of  our  getting  more.  We  took  all  the  wine  and  the  arms, 
and  as  much  of  the  silks  and  embroidered  stuff  as  every  man 
pleased  ;  so  that  we  went  about  as  fine  as  so  many  princes,  with 
purple  and  crimson  sashes.  The  spices  we  mostly  left  on  the 
ship  ;  but  the  powder  we  took  out  of  her,  and  all  her  provisions. 
And  then  we  found  the  treasure.  It  was  packed  in  small  iron- 
bound  chests,  in  gold  pieces  of  eight  and  other  coins,  worth,  as 
near  as  I  could  calculate,  judging  from  the  weight,  about  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  of  our  money.  Think  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds,  to  be  divided  among  a 
crew  of  simple  rovers  !  When  we  first  found  this  treasure,  and 
understood  how  much  it  was  worth — namely,  allowing  eight 
shares  for  the  captain  and  eighteen  for  the  officers,  nearly  two 
thousand  pounds  apiece  for  every  man — we  were  amazed  at  our 
wonderful  fortune,  and  looked  at  each  other  like  stuck  pigs. 


66  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

However,  we  got  the  boxes  on  board,  and  laid  them  saf e.  in  the 
captain's  cabin,  and  set  fire  to  the  galleon,  which  blazed  furious- 
ly, and  presently  blew  up,  and  so  an  end  of  her.  And  as  for 
us,  we  sailed  away,  and  began  to  feast  and  to  drink,  and  to  make 
merry.  And  for  the  first  few  hours  I  think  there  was  never 
so  happy  a  crew  in  the  world." 

"  Well,"  said  Jack,  "  if  prize-money  were  all  they  wanted. 
But  to  have  no  fighting  with  the  Spaniards — why,  one  would 
as  lief  take  the  money  out  of  a  till." 

"  There  was  a  great  deal  of  fighting.     I  said  only  that  there 
was  no  fighting  with  the  Spaniard." 
"  What  other  fight  was  there,  then  ?" 

"  That  evening  we  made  a  great  feast  on  deck,  all  the  ship's 
company  sitting  down  together  to  as  noble  a  salmagundy, 
onions  being  still  plentiful,  as  one  would  wish  to  see.  And 
with  the  salmagundy — which  is  sailor's  food,  truly,  yet  I  want 
no  other  as  long  as  I  live,  unless  it  be  lobscouse  and  sea-pie — 
we  drank  the  finest  wine,  designed  for  his  excellency  the  gov- 
ernor-general of  the  Manillas,  that  was  ever  drawn  from  cask. 
Such  wine  one  may  never  hope  to  taste  again.  What  ?  Topers 
who  drink  strong  black  port  and  Jamaica  rum  (which  yet  I 
love),  what  know  they  of  the  soft  and  luscious  drink  these 
papistical  Spaniards  enjoy  daily,  sitting  in  their  cool  and  shady 
houses,  while  the  negroes  and  the  Indians  work  for  them  in  the 
sun  ?  But  when  the  drink  got  into  us,  the  quarrelling  began. 
When  rovers  quarrel,  they  fight.  The  men  were  light-headed, 
to  begin  with,  thinking  of  their  great  windfall ;  and  the  Span- 
ish wine  is  heady  when  you  have  taken  much  more  than  a 
quart  or  two,  and  they  very  soon  began  to  quarrel  over  the  di- 
vision of  the  money.  For  some  wanted  to  tear  up  the  articles, 
whereby  the  captain  took  eight  shares  and  the  officers  eighteen, 
and  all  to  share  and  share  alike.  And  then  swords  were  drawn 
and  pistols  cocked ;  and  those  of  us  who  had  kept  reasonably 
sober  went  hastily  below.  Among  these  were  the  first  and 
second  mates,  and  the  bo's'n,  and  myself.  But  the  captain  was 
mad  with  drink.  We  kept  bolow,  while  the  trampling  and  the 
fighting  went  on  all  night  long,  for  they  stopped  only  to  drink, 
and  then  fought  again  like  so  many  devils,  not  caring  with 
whom  they  fought,  still  less  for  what  cause.  The  men  were 
resolute  fellows,  but  they  never  showed  half  so  much  courage 


They  stopped  only  to  drink,  and  then  fought  again 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  67 

against  the  enemy  as  they  did  against  each  other ;  and  those 
who  had  been  in  the  morning  the  heartiest  friends  and  brothers 
were  at  night  murdering  each  other  with  the  utmost  ferocity. 

"  They  stopped  at  last ;  not  because  they  were  appeased,  but 
because  they  were  tired ;  and  all  slept  on  deck,  some  lying 
across  the  dead  and  wounded.  It  was  a  strange  sight  when  we 
ventured  on  deck,  the  work  of  fighting  being  over,  and  saw 
them  in  the  moonlight  all  lying  about  among  the  cannon,  mostly 
in  the  waist,  dead  and  living  together,  the  blood  still  running 
out  of  the  scuppers.  The  man  at  the  helm  was  killed,  and  ly- 
ing over  his  wheel.  There  was  no  watch  ;  there  were  no  lights  ; 
all  sails  were  set,  and  the  ship  was  swiftly  sailing  over  the 
smooth  waters  with  no  one  to  look  out,  no  lights  in  the  bows, 
and  no  one  to  care  whether  we  struck  on  a  rock  or  not.  There 
were  thirty  wounded  men,  whom  we  carried  below  and  dressed 
their  wounds ;  but  fifteen  of  them  died,  their  blood  being  heated 
by  the  wine  and  the  salt  provisions. 

"  At  sunrise  most  of  the  men  woke  up  and  shook  off  their 
drunkenness,  and  ashamed  they  were  to  find  the  captain  and 
twenty  men  killed  by  the  night's  quarrel.  First  they  sat  and 
looked  at  each  other,  sorry  and  angry.  Then  they  took  conso- 
lation, thinking  there  were  still  enough  men  to  navigate  the  ship, 
and  fight  her,  if  necessary  ;  and  then  some  one  whispered  that 
there  were  fewer  by  twenty  to  share  the  treasure. 

"  So  we  threw  the  bodies  overboard  without  any  funeral  ser- 
vice, and  the  men  resolved  to  quarrel  no  more,  and  all  shook 
hands  together. 

"  I  suppose  the  thought  of  the  money  filled  all  the  men's 
minds,  because  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  drinking  began  again, 
the  quarrelling  began.  The  captain  being  dead,  they  could  no 
longer  quarrel  over  his  eight  shares ;  but  the  officers  were  left, 
and  they  began  about  their  shares.  Now  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  both  mates,  instead  of  running  down  below  again  with  the 
bo's'n  and  me,  stayed  on  deck  and  took  part  in  the  quarrel.  That 
was  a  worse  night  than  the  other,  because  it  began  earlier. 
Ten  more  were  killed  that  night,  and  a  great  many  wounded. 
What  was  worse,  the  morning  brought  no  cessation,  but  they 
fought  all  day  long,  and  for  three  days  and  three  nights,  drink- 
ing all  the  time  like  devils,  as  if  they  desired  that  as  many 
should  be  killed  as  possible,  and  as  few  left  to  divide  the  treas- 


68  THE    WORLD    WENT  VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ure.  In  the  end,  when  they  desisted,  we  were  reduced  to  sixty 
men,  most  of  whom  had  wounds  of  some  kind,  and  some  died 
afterwards  of  fever,  so  that  we  numbered  no  more  than  fifty. 
I  suppose  that  such  a  thing  hath  never  before  happened,  that  a 
ship  for  four  days  and  four  nights  should  sail  any  course  she 
pleased,  being  without  a  steersman  or  a  captain  or  a  watch, 
having  all  sails  set,  and  yawing  about  as  she  pleased,  just  as  the 
breeze  changed,  and  so  sailing  all  the  time  before  the  wind.  It 
was  surely  a  miracle  that  we  were  not  all  cast  away  and  de- 
stroyed. At  last,  however,  the  men  grew  tired  and  sobered, 
frightened  by  the  deaths  of  so  many,  and  now  awakened  to  the 
new  danger  that  if  we  met  the  Spaniard  we  might  not  be  able 
to  fight  him  nor  to  protect  our  huge  treasure. 

"  So  we  held  a  serious  council.  First,  we  were  nofl*  all  rich 
men,  and  it  behooved  us  to  think  of  getting  home  safely  with 
our  money,  and  to  run  no  risks  more  than  we  could  help,  and 
not  to  go  in  search  of  other  ships,  but  to  keep  out  of  the 
enemy's  way. 

"  Did  one  ever  hear  before  of  an  English  crew  keeping  out 
of  the  Spaniard's  way  ?  But  the  treasure  made  cowards  of  us 
all.  Every  man  valued  his  own  skin  because  he  was  now  the 
owner  of  so  much  wealth.  Why,  what  had  been  before  the 
fighting  a  share  worth  two  thousand,  was  now  worth  four  at 
least.  Not  a  man  among  us  but  was  worth  four  thousand 
pounds  and  more.  Even  if  we  had  sighted  another  galleon,  I 
doubt  whether  we  should  have  ventured  to  attack  her.  And 
the  men  grew  moody  and  scowling,  every  one  sitting  apart, 
counting  his  gains  and  wishing  his  shipmates  dead,  so  that 
his  own  share  should  be  greater.  Never  was  a  ship's  crew 
fuller  of  murderous  thoughts  and  evil  jealousies.  Even  the 
wounded  men  dying  of  fever  could  not  die  quietly,  but  must 
shriek  and  cry  out  for  life,  because  they  were  now  all  made 
men." 

"  Better  have  tossed  the  treasure  overboard,"  said  Jack. 

"  As  for  our  course,  we  had  now  sailed  a  good  bit  to  the 
south,  but  we  knew  not  and  we  never  knew  where  we  were. 
Look  at  the  chart.  Here  is  the  island  of  Donna  Maria  Laxara. 
We  were  driven  north  from  that  island,  and  we  presently  sailed 
south,  no  man  regarding  the  navigation.  The  latitude  I  was 
able  to  calculate ;  but  as  for  the  longitude,  that  was  lost,  and 


THE    WORLD   WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  69 

we  knew  not  how  to  recover  it,  there  being  no  one  on  board 
except  myself  who  could  so  much  as  read. 

"  After  our  council,  however,  we  appointed  watches,  and  at- 
tended somewhat  to  the  sailing,  keeping  her  course  south,  in 
hopes  of  fetching  Juan  Fernandez  or  Masa  Fuera.  But,  lord ! 
we  were  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  west,  though  we  knew  it  not ; 
and  as  for  Juan  Fernandez,  we  should  none  of  us  ever  see  that 
island  again.  So  we  sailed  day  after  day,  but  slowly,  because 
the  winds  were  light.  The  sun  now  grew  hot ;  we  were  within  the 
tropics.  The  men  had  somewhat  recovered  their  spirits,  and 
bragged  what  they  would  do  when  we  got  home,  and  how  they 
would  fling  the  money  about.  Some  were  for  Kingston,  but 
some  for  Portsmouth ;  and  I  have  always  felt  compassion  for 
the  girls  of  Point  that  they  never  had  the  spending  of  this  great 
haul.  For  my  own  part,  I  always  knew  that  something  was 
going  to  happen,  for  surely  such  a  crew  of  murderers  would 
never  be  suffered  to  get  safely  to  port  with  so  much  wealth. 

"  The  first  thing  that  happened  was  that  we  were  becalmed. 
I  know  not  where,  but  I  think  somewhere  hereabouts."  Mr. 
Brinjes  pointed  to  a  spot  near  the  middle  of  the  Pacific,  far 
from  any  other  track.  "We  were  becalmed  so  long  that  we 
drank  out  all  the  Spaniard's  wine,  and  now  had  nothing  to 
drink  except  water,  and  that  so  long  in  tliQ  casks  that  it  was,  so 
to  speak,  rusty.  Also,  we  soon  found  that  we  had  not  a  great 
quantity  of  provisions  left ;  and  the  scurvy  showed  itself  with 
the  Lobillo,  of  which  we  lost  two  or  three  men.  And  now,  if 
there  was  no  more  fighting,  there  was  no  more  singing  and 
making  merry.  The  men  amused  themselves  with  gambling: 
some  of  them  played  away  all  their  shares,  but  presently  won 
them  back,  and  then  lost  them  again  ;  or  they  passed  the  days, 
which  were  tedious,  in  fishing  for  sharks — the  sea  was  full  of 
them ;  sometimes  they  killed  them  for  food,  but  one  soon  gets 
tired  of  eating  shark ;  sometimes  they  played  with  them,  for 
they  would  catch  two,  and  put  out  the  eyes  of  one,  and  tie  their 
tails  together,  and  so  drop  them  into  the  sea,  when  it  was  pretty 
to  see  them  pull  different  ways,  and  fight  and  bite  at  each 
other,  just  like  Christians.  Or  they  would  catch  one  and  tie  a 
plank  to  his  tail,  so  that  he  could  not  dive  under  water  or  swim 
away  without  dragging  the  plank  with  him,  and  so  went  mad, 
and  lashed  the  water  in  his  rage.  And  strange  things  hap- 


70  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

pened.  One  day,  while  we  were  still  becalmed,  the  needle  be- 
gan to  turn  all  ways,  as  if  the  witches  had  got  hold  of  it — the 
Jamaica  Obeah  men  know  that  secret — and  another  day  the  sky 
turned  violet-color  with  green  clouds,  very  terrifying,  and  in  the 
night  the  sea  was  a  blaze  of  light,  so  that  we  were  all  alarmed, 
and  one  young  fellow  went  mad,  and  cried  out  that  the  Day  of 
Judgment  was  come,  and  called  upon  the  sea  to  hide  him  from 
the  face  of  an  offended  God,  and  so  jumped  overboard  and  was 
drowned.  I  think  we  must  have  been  becalmed  for  six  weeks. 
At  last,  however,  a  breeze  sprung  up  from  the  nor'west,  and  so 
we  continued  our  course,  if  that  can  be  called  a  course  which 
was  sailing  blindly,  on  an  unknown  sea. 

"  Jack,"  Mr.  Brinjes  cried,  "  it  will  be  thy  lot — wherefore  I 
tell  thee  this  history — to  cruise  upon  these  waters.  Not  upon 
the  course  which  the  Spaniards  take,  but  west  and  south  of 
their  route.  There  wilt  thou  meet,  as  we  did,  with  strange  and 
beautiful  islands  filled  with  kindly  people,  who  paddle  in  canoes 
and  swim  like  fishes,  and  hold  all  things  in  common,  and  live 
naked.  In  those  latitudes  it  is  always  summer  all  the  year 
round,  with  warm,  balmy  air ;  and  nobody  heeds  the  time,  and 
there  are  always  rich  fruits  to  eat  and  delightful  fish  to  catch. 
They  have  no  religion,  and  therefore  are  not  afraid ;  they  have 
no  knowledge  of  the  ten  commandments,  and  therefore  know 
not  the  nature  of  sin,  and  have  no  conscience  to  trouble  them ; 
they  have  learned  nothing  of  any  future  world,  and  therefore 
are  not  anxious ;  they  have  no  property,  and  therefore  know 
not  envy ;  they  have  no  diseases,  except  the  incurable  disease 
of  age ;  although  their  lives  are  happy,  they  fear  not  death, 
upon  which  they  never  think ;  they  neither  murder  nor  rob. 
What  is  our  modern  civilization,  what  is  the  politeness  of  the 
age,  compared  with  such  happiness  as  theirs  ?  What  is  there 
a  man  can  hope  for  better  than  warmth  and  plenty,  the  love  of 
women  and  the  friendship  of  men,  with  constant  health,  sun- 
shine, and  joy.  Do  they  murder  each  other  ?  Do  they  fight 
duels  with  each  other  ?  Do  they  gamble  away  their  fortunes  ? 
Do  they  steal  and  rob  ?  Do  they  entice  away  another's  wife  ? 
Are  they  clapped  into  prison  for  debt,  and  kept  there  until  they 
die  ?  Are  they  hanged  for  forging,  coining,  and  shoplifting  ? 
Are  they  flogged  at  the  cart-wheel  for  anything  they  do  ?  Arc 
they  made  to  work  all  day  so  that  another  man  may  grow  rich  ? 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  71 

Are  they  teased  with  wars?  Must  they  be  starved  so  that 
priests  may  get  fat  ?  Do  they  go  in  misery  and  anxiety  all 
their  days  for  fear  of  the  Bottomless  Pit  ?"  Mr.  Brinjes  enu- 
merated many  other  things,  which  are  not  the  blessings  of  civ- 
ilization, yet  exist  among  us,  and  not  among  these  savages. 
"Why,  for  the  mere  joy  of  living  among  this  people,  and 
breathing  their  soft  air,  our  men  forgot  even  their  great  treas- 
ure and  their  jealousies,  and  became,  as  it  were,  foolish ;  they 
quarrelled  no  longer ;  they  rejoiced  to  go  ashore  and  court  the 
friendship  of  these  soft  savages,  and  to  give  them  beads,  knives, 
fish-hooks,  or  any  little  thing,  in  return  for  which  the  people 
gave  them  everything  they  had ;  for  a  string  of  beads  or  a 
piece  of  bright-colored  silk  they  would  bring  out  all  they  pos- 
sessed ;  for  a  bottle  of  rum  they  would,  I  verily  believe,  have 
sold  their  island.  Ah!"  Mr.  Brinjes  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 
"  I  have  known  true  happiness  on  the  African  coast ;  but  there 
the  air  is  hotter,  and  men's  passions  are  fiercer — well,  I  love  the 
fierce  passion  and  the  temperament  which  breaks  suddenly  into 
flame ;  but  I  have  never  seen  or  heard,  anywhere,  of  any  place 
where  the  folk  are  so  gentle  as  in  these  seas,  and  life  is  so 
easy  and  so  sweet.  Heaven  keep  them  long  from  the  accursed 
Spaniard ! 

"And  as  for  wonders,  I  have  seen  strange  things,  indeed, 
which  men  would  not  believe.  Boys,  I  do  not  lie  :  I  have  seen 
bats  as  big  as  rabbits,  and  terrible  great  serpents  which  hang 
from  the  trees  head  downward,  and  have  power  by  their 
breath  —  I  know  not  how  —  by  their  breath  alone,  to  draw 
wild  beasts — nay,  and  man  as  well — towards  them,  and  so  to 
break  their  bones  and  devour  them ;  calamaries,  or  squids, 
are  there  with  arms  ninety  feet  long — many  have  seen  them, 
and  avow  the  truth — which  can  clutch  a  whole  ship  and 
drag  it  under  water ;  there  are  springs  of  water  which  have 
virtue  to  turn  fish  into  stones ;  there  are  flying  cats  and  women- 
fish — yea,  fish  with  heads  and  breasts  like  unto  women,  and 
tails  like  the  mermaids' ;  there  are  shell-fish  big  enough,  each 
one,  to  dine  a  boat's  crew,  and  yet  leave  meat  to  spare ;  there 
are  birds'  nests  so  big  that  six  men  cannot  fathom  one ;  there 
are  beautiful  lizards,  of  all  colors,  as  big  as  calves.  Am  I  lying 
to  you  ?  No,  boys.  There  was  an  island  where  we  gathered  a 
pannier  of  earth  for  the  cook's  galley,  to  lay  under  his  fire. 


72  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Would  you  believe  that  six  months  afterwards  we  found  a  bar 
of  gold  beneath  it,  melted  out  of  this  little  bucketful  of  earth  ? 
But  we  could  never  find  that  island  again.  As  for  the  people, 
the  men  mostly  go  naked,  or  nearly  naked,  and  the  women  have 
a  kind  of  petticoat,  made  sometimes  of  feathers  and  sometimes  of 
skins,  and  they  have  hair  so  long  that  it  trails  upon  the  ground ; 
their  language  is  a  jargon  that  no  one  can  understand ;  and  if 
they  worship  anything,  which  I  doubt,  they  worship  wooden 
images.  Tasman  found  some  of  these  islands,  but  he  has  never 
been  where  I  have  been.  No  living  man — the  rest  being  dead — 
has  been  where  I  have  been.  Tell  me  not  of  Captain  Shel- 
vocke  !  He  only  followed  the  Spaniard's  track. 

"  We  cruised  about  contentedly,  leading  a  life  like  that  of 
King  Solomon  himself,  among  these  islands — how  long,  I  know 
not,  for  we  stayed  sometimes  for  whole  months  off  one  island. 
Perhaps  it  was  fifty  years,  but  I  think  it  was  no*  more  than  two 
or  three.  There  was  no  more  talk  of  the  treasure.  Some  of 
our  crew  died ;  some  refused  to  leave  the  islands,  even  for  their 
share  of  the  treasure,  and  preferred  a  black  wife  and  a  life  of 
ease  under  a  warm  sun,  with  palm-wine  and  pandang  (which  is 
their  kind  of  food),  to  any  more  dangers  upon  the  water.  So 
at  length,  out  of  our  company  of  a  hundred  and  twenty,  there 
were  but  five-and-twenty  left  among  whom  to  divide  the  great 
sum  of  money.  This  would  give  ten  thousand  pieces  each. 
But  by  this  time,  the  ship — poor  thing — was  fallen  into  dis- 
repair, and  most  of  our  stores  were  now  expended,  so  that 
what  with  rotten  cordage,  which  would  hardly  hold  a  sail,  and 
a  leak  which  she  had  sprung  somewhere,  which  gained  daily, 
and  planks  now  so  soft  that  you  could  put  a  knife  into  them 
as  into  a  rotten  apple,  and  her  bottom  covered  with  green  weeds, 
like  a  ditch  beside  a  hedge-row  at  home,  I,  for  one,  doubted 
whether  she  would  hold  together  at  all  if  bad  weather  came. 
But  in  these  islands  we  never  found  any  bad  weather. 

"  By  this  time  all  our  clothes  were  worn  out.  Stockings  and 
shoes  we  had  none,  but  no  one  wanted  them.  For  coat  and 
shirt  and  all,  we  had  the  bales  of  silk  which  we  found  on  the 
galleon ;  and  let  me  tell  you  that,  in  a  warm  climate,  there  is  no 
wear  like  silk,  being  both  soft  and  cool.  We  had  suffered  our 
beards  to  grow ;  we  had  left  off  carrying  arms,  and  nobody 
quarrelled  or  fought.  Our  provisions  were  long  since  gone. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  73 

but  we  had  palm-wine,  such  as  the  islanders  make,  and  pandang, 
and  we  were  dexterous  at  fishing.  If  we  left  one  island  and 
sailed  to  another,  it  was  only  for  the  sake  of  change,  for  sailors 
are  always  a  restless  folk ;  and  we  thought  of  nothing  but  to  con- 
tinue the  joyful,  easy,  and  happy  life  that  we  were  leading. 

"  It  was  I,  there  being  no  officers  left,  who  broke  up  this  con- 
tentment, and  called  the  men  together  to  speak  seriously.  I 
pointed  out  to  them  very  earnestly  that  we  must  resolve,  and 
that  immediately,  whether  we  would  settle  upon  some  friendly 
island  and  break  up  the  old  ship,  or  whether  we  would  without 
more  delay  attempt  the  voyage  home.  I  told  them  that  we 
were  all  rich  men,  and  could  take  our  ease  for  life,  if  only  we 
succeeded  in  getting  home  ;  but  that  we  had  a  leaky  and  crazy 
ship,  with  rotten  cordage,  worm-eaten  planks,  and  foul  bottom, 
and  that  we  must  first  put  her  in  some  kind  of  repair  before 
we  could  think  of  getting  round  Cape  Horn,  and  if  we  did 
not  speedily  attempt  these  repairs  the  poor  old  barky  would 
founder  beneath  us.  The  men  lazily  replied  that  they  cared 
nothing  whether  the  ship  fell  to  pieces  or  no,  and  were  content 
to  live  forever  upon  one  of  these  islands  among  the  blacks,  of 
whose  soft  manner  of  life  they  were  enamoured,  and  wanted  no 
more  fighting  or  tempests.  Such  softness  stealeth  over  the 
souls  of  all  who  dwell  in  these  latitudes.  This  is  the  reason 
why  the  Creolian  Spaniard — he  of  Mexico,  Cuba,  or  Acapulco — 
is  so  poor  a  creature  as  compared  with  the  Englishman,  for  the 
heat  and  softness  of  the  air  have  sapped  his  courage  and  made 
him  a  coward.  One  or  two  among  us,  however,  having  still 
something  left  of  courage,  and  some  recollection  of  home,  per- 
suaded them  to  consent  that  we  should,  when  we  could  find 
a  convenient  place,  endeavor  to  heel  the  ship  over  and  scrape 
her,  stop  the  leak,  if  we  could,  and  make  her  ship-shape  for 
rougher  weather. 

"  A  few  days  afterwards  we  came  to  a  small  archipelago,  or 
collection  of  small  islands.  They  were  not  the  coral  islands, 
which  lie  low,  and  are  surrounded  by  a  reef  of  coral,  but  were 
all  like  hill-tops,  rising  sheer  and  steep  out  of  the  water,  green 
and  wooded  to  the  top,  and  apparently  uninhabited.  In  one  of 
these  we  found  a  curious  natural  dock  or  basin,  deep  and  nar- 
row, for  all  the  world  like  the  Greenland  Dock  at  Redriffe,  and 
as  suitable  for  our  purpose  as  if  we  had  made  it  ourselves. 
4 


74  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Here  we  resolved  to  make  our^dock-yard,  and  to  begin  by  heel- 
ing over  the  ship  to  get  at  her  bottom.  Wherefore,  in  case  of 
accident,  it  was  first  agreed  that  we  should  put  the  treasure 
ashore  in  the  only  boat  we  possessed,  the  great  storm  having 
stove  in  the  others.  We  lowered  the  boxes,  and  put  in  the 
boat  five  men,  of  whom  I  was  one,  with  intent  to  row  ashore, 
lay  the  gold  in  some  safe  place,  and  then  return  to  tow  the 
ship  into  this  creek,  or  rocky  natural  dock.  So  we  put  off, 
thinking  no  danger,  and  rowed  to  land. 

"  Now  mark  what  happened.  The  ship  was  lying,  when  we 
left  her,  in  smooth  water,  all  sails  furled.  There  was  no  wind, 
not  a  breath  of  air;  if  we  had  dropped  our  kedge,  which  we 
could  not,  because  there  was  no  bottom,  the  ship  would  have 
ridden  anchor  apeak.  The  time  of  day  was  afternoon,  when 
air  and  water  are  at  their  stillest ;  and  she  was  in  a  kind  of 
channel  or  narrow  sea,  with  these  islands  all  around,  which  I 
should  say  were  quite  desolate  and  uninhabited,  yet  full  of 
trees  and  fruits,  with  plenty  of  fresh  water.  We  had  no  more 
than  the  length  of  a  furlong  to  row,  the  water  being  deep  and 
the  shore  of  our  island  shelving  steep  down  into  the  sea.  We 
landed,  hauled  up  the  boat  for  fear  of  accident,  and  began  to 
carry  ashore  the  boxes,  in  order  to  lay  them  together  under  the 
trees.  You  think,  perhaps,  that  a  treasure  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  pieces  of  eight  is  a  mighty  great  matter.  So  it 
is,  yet  they  may  all  be  stowed  in  a  few  small  boxes.  We  laid 
them  down,  then,  and  left  them  (no  one  being  on  the  island 
except  ourselves)  at  the  foot  of  a  palm. 

"And  there,  my  lads,"  Mr.  Brinjes  added,  slowly — "there 
they  are  to  this  day.  For  sure  and  certain  I  am  that  no  ship 
hath  been  among  these  islands  since.  And  I  know  that  I 
could  find  the  place  again." 

"  Why  did  you  leave  the  treasure  there  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear.  When  we  got  down  to  the  shore  again,  a 
strange  thing  —  nay,  a  miracle  —  had  happened.  The  ship, 
which  we  left,  as  I  said,  only  a  furlong  from  the  land,  was  now 
— as  near  as  we  could  guess — two  miles.  She  had  none  of  her 
canvas  spread ;  there  was  no  breeze  to  speak  of,  and  yet  she 
was  slipping  through  the  water  away  from  us  at  six  knots  an 
hour,  as  near  as  we  could  guess.  Wonderful  it  was  to  see  a 
ship,  without  wind  or  sails,  moving  so  fast.  Whether  it  was 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  75 

witchcraft  —  which  I  sometimes  think  —  or  a  strong  current, 
which  may  have  been  the  cause,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  our  ship 
had  slipped  away,  and  left  us  behind.  We  rowed  after  her ; 
but  a  little  boat,  with  one  pair  of  oars,  cannot  overtake  a  vessel 
going  six  knots  an  hour,  with  two  miles  and  more  to  overtake. 
Then  we  thought  to  make  the  crew  put  the  ship  about,  if  they 
could.  We  shouted  and  made  signals ;  but,  so  far  as  we  could 
discern,  no  one  on  board  noticed.  Perhaps  the  men  were  all 
bewitched,  as,  I  think,  must  have  happened ;  perhaps  they  were 
drinking  or  sleeping,  because  in  those  days  they  generally  spent 
the  time  in  sleep  whenever  they  were  not  drinking  or  fishing. 
She  seemed  to  move  faster  and  faster,  and  the  evening  was 
coming  on.  The  sun  got  low ;  we  had  only  time  to  row  ashore 
before  the  darkness  was  upon  us ;  and  the  last  we  saw  of  the 
poor  old  ship  was  the  sight  of  her  spars,  with  the  sinking  sun 
behind  them,  and  the  red  sky  above,  and  the  water  spread  out 
before  us  like  a  sheet  of  copper. 

"What  became  of  that  ship  and  her  company  I  know  not. 
But  I  doubt  not  that  the  craft  is  broken  up,  and  the  crew  are 
all  dead  long  ago.  For  either  she  struck  a  reef  and  was 
wrecked,  and  the  crew  drowned,  having  no  boat,  or — which 
may  very  well  have  happened — the  leak  grew  upon  her,  and 
she  made  so  much  water  that  she  foundered ;  or  they  may  have 
made  a  raft,  and  landed  on  some  island,  where  they  lived,  and, 
in  due  course,  died  of  too  much  palm-wine.  And  this  was  the 
best  that  could  happen  to  them. 

"  As  for  us  five  men  who  were  left  upon  the  island,  we  hoped 
at  first  that  the  ship  would  come  back  for  us,  but  she  did  not ; 
then  we  made  up  our  minds  to  stay  there,  and  we  built  a  kind 
of  house,  and  made  ourselves  easy,  and  fished,  and  made  pan- 
dang.  No  man  need  starve  upon  these  islands.  But  after  a 
while  we  grew  tired  of  the  life,  and  so  resolved  to  attempt  es- 
cape. So  we  buried  the  treasure  at  the  foot  of  the  palm  where 
we  had  first  laid  it,  and  on  the  trunk  we  cut  a  mark ;  then  we 
rigged  a  sail  of  palm-leaves,  calked  the  boat  with  cocoa  fibre, 
took  some  water  and  such  provisions  as  we  could  lay  up  in 
store,  and  so  left  our  island,  and  sailed  eastward.  We  were 
still  among  islands,  and  we  sailed  among  them  for  many  weeks 
— I  know  not  how  long.  For  still,  when  we  were  out  of  sight 
of  one  island,  we  would  sight  another  and  yet  another,  but  not 


76  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

all  friendly,  nor  all  so  soft  and  affectionate  as  those  we  had  left 
behind  us.  So  we  crept  on,  from  shore  to  shore  and  from  cape 
to  cape,  until  at  last  we  reached  the  open  sea,  and  no  land  in 
sight  at  all,  and  presently  no  provisions." 

"  And  what  happened  then  2" 

"  My  lad,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  be  at 
sea  with  no  provisions  either  to  eat  or  to  drink.  Those  who 
have  water  may  go  on  for  a  long  time,  though  I  have  been  told 
that  the  body  presently  swells  up  and  grows  restless,  and  one 
must  move  about,  which  in  a  small  boat  is  difficult.  But  to 
have  neither  food  nor  water !  Then  the  men's  eyes  grow  fierce 
and  eager;  horrible  gnawing  pains  tear  them  to  pieces.  All 
day  long  they  gaze  upon  the  water  for  a  sail,  though  they 
know,  as  we  knew,  that  there  can  be  no  sail  in  those  parts. 
At  night  they  sleep  not,  but  groan,  and  wish  it  were  day. 
Then  the  pains  increase,  and  one  would  willingly  die  but  for 
the  agony  of  death ;  and  then  the  men  cease  looking  upon  the 
ocean,  but  look  in  each  other's  faces,  none  daring  to  say  what 
is  in  every  man's  mind." 

Here  he  was  silent  for  a  while. 

"  All  this  time  we  had  a  steady,  gentle  breeze,  so  that  we 
sailed  easily  over  smooth  water ;  and  all  the  time  we  were  fol- 
lowed by  a  shark,  which  never  left  us,  and  was  a  certain  prog- 
nostication of  death,  which  we  knew  and  understood.  "My 
lads,  when  that  boat  was  picked  up — which  was  by  a  Spanish 
brig  sailing  for  the  port  of  Acapulco — there  was  but  one  man 
left.  All  the  rest  had  parted  \their  cable,  and  the  shark  had 
eaten  them — that  is,  some  parts  of  them.  The  survivor  hath 
never  told  any  one  how  he  kept  himself  alive.  Perhaps  he  was 
able  to  catch  a  few  fish ;  perhaps  he  caught  a  wild  bird ;  per- 
haps it  rained,  and  he  caught  the  water  as  it  fell.  If  ever  you 
do  pray  for  yourself,  Jack — but  it  is  best  to  take  your  own 
luck,  and  to  pray  for  others — pray  that  you  be  never  con- 
demned to  sail  in  an  open  boat  without  provisions."  I  have 
read  in  some  book  of  shipwrecks  that  sailors  have  been  known, 
in  the  extremity  of  their  hunger,  to  kill  each  other  for  food. 
Did  Mr.  Brinjes  and  his  boat's  crew  resort  to  this  dreadful 
method  ? 

"  As  for  the  treasure,"  he  concluded,  solemnly,  "  I  have  be- 
queathed it,  Jack,  to  thee  and  to  Bess  Westmoreland  here  in 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  77 

equal  parts.  We  will  sail  together  some  day  and  dig  it  up.  I 
am  old,  but  I  shall  not  die  until  I  have  seen  those  seas  again. 
We  will  go  together,  Jack,  and  thou  shalt  be  rich.  But  even 
now  thou  art  going  thither,  happy  lad  !  When  thy  ship  comes 
home,  we  will  get  a  brig  somehow,  and  sail  away  together — 
Captain  Easterbrook  in  command — and  steer  for  those  islands. 
I  know  not  their  longitude,  but  as  to  latitude  I  am  very  sure 
they  are  about  the  parallel  of  20  S.  Oh,  I  shall  find  that  archi- 
pelago. I  cannot  die  until  I  have  breathed  those  airs  again 
and  found  the  treasure.  Jack,  thou  art  heir  to  a  greater  estate 
than  any  man  in  England  can  boast.  There  is  no  earl  or  duke 
who  shall  hold  up  his  head  beside  thee.  Thou  shalt  be  a  prince, 
and  Bess  shall  be  a  princess." 

He  rolled  up  his  chart,  and  returned  to  his  chair  and  his  pil- 
lows, sinking  into  them  with  the  exhausted  air  which  made  one 
perceive  that  he  was  already  arrived  at  extreme  old  age. 

"  Forty  years  ago  !"  he  groaned.  "  Where  are  they  gone, 
those  forty  years  which  have  taken  away  my  strength  ?  They 
made  me  a  slave  in  Acapulco,  a  slave  to  a  Creolian  Spanish 
devil,  who  daily  flogged  and  kicked  me.  Jack" — he  sat  up- 
right, and  his  eye  flashed  fire — "  when  we  have  recovered  the 
treasure  we  will  burn  the  town  of  Acapulco,  and  roast  alive 
every  Spaniard  in  it.  Oh,  that  I  could  have  then  got  back  to 
the  island !  But  that  I  could  not ;  and  very  soon  I  perceived 
that  I  must  somehow  escape,  unless  I  was  to  be  a  slave  for  life, 
worse  than  a  negro  slave,  and  made  to  change  my  religion  or 
burn.  This,  though  I  had  lived 'among  the  islands  like  a  pagan, 
I  was  unwilling  to  do.  I  therefore  ran  away,  and  committed 
myself  to  the  Indians,  by  whom  I  was  taken  across  the  Isthmus 
of  Panama,  where  I  lived  in  the  woods  among  my  friends  the 
savages  for  two  years  and  more  before  I  could  find  an  English 
ship  among  those  which  came  trading  for  mahogany  to  the 
coast  of  Yucatan  which  would  take  me  off.  So  that  of  all  that 
long  journey  I  brought  back  to  Jamaica  with  me  but  one  thing 
— my  blue-stone  for  the  cure  of  snake-bites."  He  pulled  it 
out  of  his  pocket.  "  When  you  are  bitten  by  any  of  the  rep- 
tiles and  insects  of  the  forest,  even  by  the  most  venomous,  you 
may  apply  this  stone  (I  have  tried  it  on  myself  after  a  deadly 
snake-bite),  which  sticks  on  the  place,  and  doth  not  fall  off  till 
it  hath  sucked  up  all  the  poison,  when  it  drops  of  its  own 


78  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

weight,  and  must  be  put  into  milk  before  you  can  use  it  again. 
Forty  years  ago  !  When  I  was  young  and  could  enjoy  !  Life 
mocks  us,  Jack.  Sometimes  I  think  that  we  are  the  sport  and 
the  laughter  of  the  gods ;  but  we  know  nothing.  It  flies  be- 
fore you  have  more  than  tasted  of  its  joys.  Give  me  fifty 
years  more — only  fifty  years — and  set  me  on  the  African  coast 
among  the  Coromantyns,  and  I  will  find  the  secret  which  their 
wise  women  know.  It  is  in  the  African  forests  that  the  herb 
grows  which  can  cure  all  disease,  even  the  disease  of  old  age. 
With  my  treasure  I  could  buy  it,  or  find  it,  or  compel  them  to 
yield  it  up.  Happy  boy !  happy  boy  !  Go  breathe  those  airs 
of  heaven,  and  gaze  upon  those  purple  islands.  If  thou  light- 
est upon  an  archipelago  somewhere  in  latitude  20  degrees 
south,  where  the  islands  are  like  hill-tops  covered  with  wood, 
search  for  one  which  has  on  its  north  side  a  creek  like  a  nat- 
ural dock,  then  look  for  a  palm-tree  marked  with  a  cross,  and 
dig  beneath  it  for  a  treasure.  But  if  thou  dost  not  find  that 
island,  then  when  thy  ship  comes  home  we  will  go  together 
and  seek  for  it,  and  find  the  treasure — thine  inheritance  !" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   "COUNTESS    OF    DORSET"  SAILS. 

"I  ALWAYS  knew,"  said  Jack,  "that  Mr.  Brinjes  had  been 
a  pirate.  I  believe  he  was  surgeon  to  Bartholomew  Roberts, 
who  was  killed  by  Captain  Sir  Ogle  Chaloner  in  the  Swallow. 
Wherefore  he  ought,  if  he  had  his  deserts,  to  be  now  hanging 
in  chains  with  his  brother  pirates  on  the  Cape  Coast.  Fifty  of 
them  there  are  dangling  in  a  row.  Now  we  know  that  he  is  a 
cannibal  as  well,  because  it  is  certain  he  must  have  eaten  up 
the  other  four  men  in  the  boat.  I  wonder  how  the  last  two 
determined  the  matter  ?  And  we  know  that  he  is  the  possessor 
of  a  great  fortune  buried  under  a  palm-tree,  on  an  undiscovered 
island  in  the  South  Seas.  It  is  as  useful  to  him  as  a  bag  of 
diamonds  in  the  moon." 

"  But  he  says  that  he  shall  sail  with  you  in  search  of  it." 
11  Likely,  likely,"  said  Jack.     "  Who  knows  what  may  hap- 
pen?    He  is,  I  take  it,  now  a  hundred  years  old.     He  keeps 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  79 

himself  alive  by  his  craft.  If  he  was  going  to  die,  I  suppose 
he  would  begin  to  repent.  As  for  his  treasure,  what  do  I  care 
for  his  pieces  of  eight,  unless  it  were  to  buy  a  frigate  and  man 
her  with  a  gallant  crew,  and  go  fighting  the  Spaniards  and  the 
French?" 

They  were  prophetic  words,  but  this  we  knew  not.  Yet  you 
shall  hear. 

Then  the  Countess  of  Dorset  sailed  away,  with  Jack  as  one 
of  her  midshipmen,  upon  her  long  and  perilous  voyage.  She 
was  under  orders  to  sail  by  way  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
and  to  survey  the  coast  of  that  vast  unknown  continent  or  island 
called  in  part  New  Holland  and  in  another  New  Guinea.  This 
accomplished,  as  far  as  might  be  possible,  her  captain  was  in- 
structed to  cross  the  ocean  and  explore  that  other  great  island 
called  New  Zealand.  She  was  to  search  after  and  report  upon 
places  which  might  be  of  advantage  to  the  British  flag.  After 
this  she  was  to  continue  her  voyage  of  discovery  even  into  the 
antarctic  fields  of  ice  ;  to  penetrate  as  near  to  the  south  pole  as 
was  possible,  and  she  was  to  return  by  doubling  Cape  Horn. 
So  that,  had  she  come  home  in  safety,  her  crew  would  have 
circumnavigated  the  globe. 

It  would  seem,  I  venture  to  think,  consistent  with  the  dignity 
as  well  as  with  the  interest  of  a  great  maritime  people,  such  as 
the  English,  were  such  voyages  as  this  always  afoot,  so  that 
when  one  exploring  ship  returned  another  might  be  despatched ; 
undertaken  not  only  for  the  discovery  of  unknown  continents 
and  islands,  but  also  for  the  enlargement  of  commerce  and  the 
enriching  of  this  realm.  In  the  old  days  the  world  was  noth- 
ing but  the  Mediterranean  with  the  lands  lying  around  that 
great  sea.  Man  has  extended  it  east  and  west,  north  and  south, 
so  that  we  can  now  boast  that  we  know  all  the  islands  of  the 
Atlantic  and  the  Indian  Ocean — navigators  say  that  in  those 
seas  there  remains  no  more  to  be  found — with  the  countries  of 
Asia  (even  China  and  Japan  have  been  described  and  exactly 
mapped  by  the  Roman  Catholic  missionaries).  We  know  the 
eastern  coast  of  North  and  South  America  from  Labrador  to 
Cape  Horn,  and  we  are  able  to  lay  down  the  harbors  and  river 
mouths  of  Africa,  though  of  its  interior  little  has  yet  been 
visited. 

There  will  perhaps  come  a  time,  if  the  English  take  the  mat- 


80  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ter  in  hand  without  fear  of  Spain,  when  the  whole  world  shall 
be  fully  explored,  so  that  there  will  be  nothing  left  to  discover, 
neither  strange  races  nor  strange  creatures  nor  wonderful  plants. 
My  father,  who  had  in  his  library  a  copy  of  the  great  "  Mappa 
Mundi,"  or  Atlas,  of  the  late  learned  Mr.  Senex,  would  often 
converse  seriously  on  the  possibility  of  finding  in  some  hitherto 
unexplored  part  of  the  world  the  long-lost  Ten  Tribes,  still,  he 
would  fondly  imagine,  practising  the  Levitical  law  in  its  Mosaic 
integrity,  without  adding  to  it  or  subtracting  from  it,  and  in 
ignorance  of  the  glosses  introduced  by  Rabbinical  and  Talmudic 
doctors.  He  looked  to  find  this  people  in  vast  numbers  (in 
conformity  with  prophecy)  somewhere  between  the  springs  of 
Tigris  and  Euphrates,  or  perhaps  more  to  the  north,  and  even 
on  the  slopes  and  among  the  valleys  of  the  mountains  called 
Caucasus ;  but  he  would  confess,  without  crediting  the  idle 
legend  of  the  Sambatyon  River,  which  seems  a  monstrous 
story,  they  may  have  wandered  farther  afield,  and  perhaps  are 
now  on  some  remote  island  of  the  Black  Sea,  the  Red  Sea,  or 
even  the  Indian  Ocean.  "  The  recovery  of  these  tribes,"  he 
said,  "  would  be  a  great  consolation  to  pious  persons,  and  would 
doubtless  prove  a  mighty  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the  faithful ; 
or,  apart  from  the  Israelites — though  this  people  must  be  ever 
foremost  in  our  thoughts — it  may  very  well  be  that  there  exist, 
in  some  remote  countries  which  have  had  no  intercourse  with 
the  outer  world  for  many  centuries,  some  people  who  were  once 
a  branch  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  have  never  heard  of  its 
decline  and  fall,  who  know  nothing  of  Christ  or  Mohammed,  or 
of  the  Hindoo  superstitions,  but  still  worship  after  the  manner 
of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  'Twould  be  strange  indeed  to  wit- 
ness the  rites  of  Jove  and  Venus  ;  those  of  the  great  Sun  god  ; 
of  Ceres,  the  goddess  of  fertility ;  of  Bacchus,  the  god  of  joy 
and  wine ;  and  of  Pan,  of  whose  death  these  people  perhaps 
know  not.  Or  it  would  be  strange  to  see  them  flocking  to  con- 
sult the  oracles.  And  one  would  willingly,  if  it  were  allowed 
to  a  Christian,  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  long 
since  lost,  though  some  have  pretended  that  they  are  concealed 
in  the  Sixth  Book  of  Virgil's  ^Eneid,  and  some  still  look  for 
them  in  Apuleius's  Golden  Ass.  Again,  there  must  be  some- 
where on  earth  the  Wandering  Jew,  named  Cartaphilus,  Ahas- 
uerus,  or,  according  to  others,  Isaac  Laquedem,  who  is  credibly 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  81 

reported  to  have  been  last  seen,  and  that  not  so  very  long  ago, 
in  Paris.  To  sit  down  and  talk  with  him,  if  his  memory  is 
still  good,  would  be  like  finding  a  Fifth  Gospel.  Or  there  may 
be  in  the  interior  of  that  great  southern  continent  which  they 
call  New  Holland  great  and  powerful  nations,  with  another 
civilization  than  our  own,  and  arts  of  which  we  know  nothing. 
We  have,  it  is  true,  invented  gunpowder,  the  use  of  which,  to 
rude  people,  appears  a  kind  of  magic,  and  we  have  contrived 
by  our  wit  many  ingenious  mechanical  devices.  But  there  are 
surely  many  other  secrets  which  man  can  compel  nature  to  sur- 
render ;  and  there  may  be  tribes  which  possess  these  secrets — 
as,  for  example,  if  one  may  so  speak  without  blasphemy,  the 
command  and  control  of  lightning,  which  now  strikes  here  and 
there  at  random,  as  we  say,  if  anything  in  this  world  is  suf- 
fered to  be  at  random  ;  and  the  mastery  over  the  other  elements 
of  the  earth — the  wind,  the  storm,  the  ice,  the  snow — which 
now  only  obey  the  word  and  will  of  the  Lord.  Or  there  may 
have  been  discovered  in  those  countries — who  knows  ? — a  uni- 
versal medicine  for  all  diseases ;  for  since  death  is  the  neces- 
sary result  of  decay  or  disease,  when  it  is  not  accident,  there 
may  be  races  who  have  discovered  some  herb  or  simple  by  vir- 
tue of  which  natural  decay  may  be  prevented,  and  so  man  may 
continue  to  live  as  long  as  he  please — which  for  the  devout 
Christian,  who  looks  forward  to  his  eternal  rest,  would  not  be 
long.  Or  there  may  even  be  found  offshoots  or  colonies  of 
such  ancient  races  as  the  Phoenicians,  of  which  stock  came  the 
Carthaginians  ;  and  so  we  may  perhaps  at  length  learn  by  what 
accident  this  branch  of  the  Semitic  race — a  most  civilized  and 
cultivated  branch — hath  left  no  literature  at  all,  either  of  poetry 
or  history ;  or  of  the  Ethiopians,  called  by  Homer,  for  some 
reason  unknown  to  us,  blameless.  They  were  expelled  from 
Egypt  by  the  people  whose  descendants  are  now  called  Copts. 
Without  doubt  they  were  an  interesting  people,  and  remark- 
able for  their"  primitive  virtue,  which  may  have  survived.  I 
would  look  for  them  on  the  western  shores  of  the  Red  Sea. 
Or  somewhere  in  the  world,  perhaps  in  the  Pacific  Isles,  or  in 
the  unknown  heart  of  Africa,  or  the  great  continent  of  the 
southern  seas,  there  may  be  races  of  giants,  dwarfs,  and  Ama- 
zons ;  for  there  must  certainly  be  some  foundation  for  the 
stories  of  such  people.  There  is  also  the  far-famed  kingdom 
4* 


82  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

of  Prester  John,  which  some  will  have  to  be  the  Empire  of 
Abyssinia,  whose  king  and  people  are  known  to  form  a  branch 
of  the  Christian  Church.  They  boast  themselves  to  be  de- 
scended from  King  Solomon  and  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  which 
may  possibly  be  the  case,  although  Holy  Writ  affords  no  war- 
rant for  the  belief.  One  would  be  pleased  to  learn  also  if  the 
many  strange  stories  narrated  by  the  Venetian  traveller  Marco 
Polo  be  true,  or  whether  he  hath  repeated  things  which  were 
merely  related  to  him,  as  is  done  by  Herodotus.  And  again, 
there  is  the  journey  of  Mandeville,  in  which  are  described  men 
with  but  one  leg,  and  hippotains,  or  creatures  half  horse,  half 
man,  so  that  there  may  be  truth  in  the  legends  of  Centaurs, 
though  some  have  thought  them  to  have  been  merely  a  people 
loving  horses,  and  addicted  to  riding. 

"  Then  to  descend  to  creatures :  there  are  existing  some- 
where, perhaps,  whether  in  the  hot  and  burning  forests  of 
South  America,  through  which  the  great  river  Oronoco  flows, 
or  in  the  African  deserts,  creatures  like  the  winged  dragons 
of  which  so  many  stories  have  been  told,  with  salamanders  and 
other  monsters ;  and  in  the  sea,  hideous  monsters  with  bodies 
many  fathoms  long,  the  vast  mass  floating  like  an  island  on 
the  ocean ;  and  great  calamaries,  of  which  sailors  have  reported 
some  with  long  arms  capable  of  seizing  and  dragging  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  ship,  cargo,  crew,  and  all." 

Thus  my  father  would  discourse  at  length ;  but  Jack  hath 
assured  us  that  in  this  terrible  voyage  of  his  they  encountered 
nothing  bigger  than  a  whale,  or  more  terrible  than  a  shark ; 
nor  any  winged  dragon,  or  serpent  more  dreadful  than  the 
kinds  already  known  ;  while  as  for  the  "  Ten  Tribes,"  or  for 
any  men  who  know  more  than  the  Europeans,  or  have  acquired 
a  form  of  civilization  worthy  our  attention,  he  does  not  believe 
that  there  are  any  such. 

We  looked  not  for  any  news  of  the  Countess  of  Dorset  for 
three  years  at  least,  because  on  the  voyage  on  which  she  was 
bound  there  are  no  friendly  ports  where  a  vessel  may  receive 
or  send  home  despatches,  though,  doubtless,  many  where  fruit 
and  water  may  be  obtained.  We  did  not  expect,  therefore, 
to  hear  any  tidings  of  her  until  she  should  return.  It  was  not 
until  fully  three  years  had  passed  away  that  we  first  began  to 
ask  ourselves  when  the  ship  might  be  expected  to  return. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  83 

But  no  news  came  of  the  ship,  and  no  letters  from  those 
aboard  her.  The  fourth  year  passed,  and  still  there  came  no 
news  ;  and  so  the  fifth,  and  still  no  news. 

Then  those  who  remembered  Jack  Easterbrook,  and  loved 
him,  began  to  misdoubt  that  something  had  happened  to  the 
ship ;  and  when  the  sixth  year  had  almost  gone  without  a  word, 
there  were  few  who  kept  up  heart,  or  had  any  hope  in  them. 
As  for  the  admiral,  he  mourned  for  Jack  as  for  his  own  son, 
believing  that  he  must  have  been  cast  away  with  all  the  ship's 
company.  "  For,"  he  said,  "  had  they  not  all  miserably  per- 
ished, some  intelligence  would  ere  now  have  reached  us.  At 
the  navy  office  they  have  written  off  the  ship  as  wrecked,  and 
the  officers  and  crew  as  dead  men,  and  the  clerks  have  told  the 
women  who  came  to  ask  after  their  husbands  that  they  may 
e'en  look  after  fresh  husbands;  though  this  proves  nothing. 
And  though  ships  have  been  known  to  be  delayed  and  forced 
back  by  continual  and  contrary  winds,  or  caught  by  storms 
and  losing  their  masts,  yet  did  I  never  hear  of  a  ship  overdue 
for  three  years,  and  then  arriving  safe.  Long  ago  the  under- 
writers, had  she  been  a  merchant  vessel,  would  have  paid  off 
the  insurances.  No,  gentlemen,  there  is  no  hope.  Our  boy 
is  drowned !" 

"  We  were  wrecked  upon  the  island  of  Juan  Fernandez," 
said  Mr.  Shelvocke,  "  where  we  lived  in  great  misery,  on  the 
entrails  of  seals  and  such  like  for  many  months ;  and  should 
still  be  living  there  but  for  the  armorer  and  carpenter,  who 
built  for  us  a  craft  thirty  feet  long,  in  which  we  embarked, 
having  no  other  provision  than  conger-eel,  cut  into  strips,  each 
strip  dipped  into  the  sea,  and  dried  in  the  sun.  A  more  loath- 
some food  'twere  difficult  to  find.  Yet  we  escaped,  taking  the 
Spanish  ship  the  Santo  Jesu,  and  so  came  safe  home  again." 

"  Then,"  said  the  admiral,  to  whom  this  story  was  not  new, 
"  the  boy  may  still  live,  or,  at  best,  he  may  linger  on  some  isl- 
and among  the  savages,  living  on  shell-fish  and  the  like,  and 
so  is  as  good  as  dead,  since  we  shall  never  see  him  more. 
Poor  lad  !  poor  lad  !  a  braver  boy  never  stepped." 

"  With  submission,  admiral,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  That  some- 
thing must  have  befallen  the  ship  I  do  not  doubt.  It  is  a  sea 
full  of  coral  reefs,  sunken  rocks,  strange  currents,  and  in  the 
northern  and  southern  parts  there  are,  it  is  certain,  sudden 


84  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

storms.  We  cannot  guess  what  lias  happened  ;  still,  I  am  sure 
that  the  boy  will  come  back  to  us.  Ask  your  old  negress, 
admiral,  who  is  a  witch  ;  ask  Philadelphy  if  that  boy's  eyes 
when  he  sailed  away  were  the  eyes  of  one  who  is  going  to  his 
death.  She  can  read  the  eyes  of  men — ay,  and  has  often  read 
for  me,  sitting  in  my  shop,  in  the  eyes  of  those  going  forth  to 
sea  whether  they  will  come  back  or  no — and  never  once  has 
she  proved  wrong.  Now,  admiral,  I  have  examined  the  chart 
over  and  over  again,  but  can  get  no  comfort  from  it,  nor  any 
clew  to  what  may  have  happened.  An  ocean  where  there  are 
no  ports,  and  where  there  is  but  one  vessel  sailing  across  it, 
like  the  South  Pacific,  where  the  Countess  of  Dorset  sailed 
upon — those  waters  can  give  no  help.  But  that  boy,  admiral, 
has  not  been  drowned.  And  he  will  return  to  us.  His  fort- 
une is  long  and  stormy,  as  Philadelphy,  at  my  request,  hath 
proved  in  many  ways — by  the  bowl,  by  the  cards,  by  the  mir- 
ror, and  by  the  glass  ball.  I  have  also  had  his  nativity  cal- 
culated, and  I  learn  the  same  story.  And  by  what  small  arts 
and  knowledge  I  possess,  I  have  learned  that  his  life  will  not 
be  cut  off  untimely.  What,  gentlemen  ?  Do  the  stars  lie  ? 
Is  there  no  truth  in  the  magic  of  the  Mandingo  woman  ?" 

It  is  a  consolation  to  know  that  a  happy  end  to  anxiety  is 
certain,  even  by  witchcraft.  Yet  Jack  did  not  return,  and  no 
news  concerning  his  ship. 

Many  of  the  crew  were  Deptf ord  men ;  volunteers  after  the 
peace.  Their  wives,  or  widows,  on  the  advice  of  the  clerks 
in  the  navy  office — who  were  now  without  hope  concerning 
the  ship — married  again.  This,  however,  is  common  among 
seafaring  folk,  and  the  worst  that  happens,  should  the  hus- 
band come  home  again,  is  generally  no  more  than  a  fight  and 
a  cracked  skull,  with  forgiveness  over  a  bowl.  Nay,  there 
have  been  cases  known  in  which  the  true  husband  has  con- 
tentedly renounced  his  wife,  and  either  married  another  woman 
or  gone  away  to  sea  again ;  perhaps  to  seek  out  a  new  wife  in 
some  other  port. 

These  six  years,  as  you  may  suppose,  were  not  spent  at  home 
without  changes.  The  elders  seem  to  stand  still  and  suffer  no 
change  during  six  years,  unless  it  is  that  their  locks,  if  they 
had  any  to  show,  would  grow  gray ;  but  in  these  days  of  wigs 
and  shaven  cheeks  there  is  nothing  (happily)  to  mark  the  ap- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  85 

proach  of  age,  save  the  trembling  limb  and  the  crow's-feet, 
which  cannot  be  concealed.  As  for  me,  I  was  fourteen  or 
thereabouts  when  the  Countess  of  Dorset  sailed  away,  &nd  there- 
fore, after  six  years,  I  was  twenty,  and  a  man  grown,  though 
not  to  the  robust  stature  promised  by  Jack  when  he  left  us. 
Castilla  was  now  past  eighteen,  and,  in  my  eyes,  more  beauti- 
ful, as  they  say,  than  the  flowers  in  May.  Nothing  surprised 
me  more  when  Jack  returned  (for  I  promise  you  that  the  black 
witch  was  right,  and  Jack  did  return)  than  his  coldness  tow- 
ards this  nymph.  If  a  fine  complexion,  eyes  of  heavenly  blue, 
melting  lips,  rosy  cheeks,  and  smiling  mouth,  with  light  hair 
curling  naturally  about  her  forehead,  and  a  figure  slight  and 
tall :  in  short,  if  Hebe  herself — who  was  the  goddess  of  youth- 
ful and  virginal  beauty,  as  Venus  is  the  goddess  of  that  riper 
beauty  which  is  no  longer  ignorant  of  love — was  lovely,  then 
was  Castilla  at  that  time,  and  as  sweet,  gracious,  and  obliging 
as  ever  was  Hebe,  the  cup-bearer  to  the  gods.  Why,  when 
Jack  came  home,  I  looked  to  see  him  fall  at  her  feet  at  the 
mere  contemplation  of  so  much  beauty.  But  no ;  he  was  stark 
insensible.  Castilla  moved  him  not ;  and  this  for  a  reason  that 
you  shall  shortly  learn. 

It  was  during  this  six  years — to  speak  for  a  moment  of  my- 
self— that  I  passed  through  the  greatest  trouble  of  my  life,  and 
touched  the  highest  happiness  that  I  could  hope  or  pray  for. 
My  father  had,  as  he  thought,  set  me  apart  for  God's  sacred 
ministry,  as  Samuel  was  set  apart,  from  childhood.  He  had 
taught  me  from  the  first  to  consider  this  the  holiest  vocation 
for  man,  as,  doubtless,  it  must  be  confessed  by  all ;  and  he 
had  taught  me  as  much  Latin  and  Greek,  with  the  composition 
of  Latin  verses,  as  I  was  permitted  by  my  natural  parts,  which 
are  not  great,  to  acquire.  And  while  he  perceived  very  well 
that  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  become  a  great  scholar  like 
himself,  he  comforted  and  encouraged  me  by  the  consideration 
that  piety  and  virtue  are  within  the  power  of  every  Christian 
man,  together  with  the  other  qualities  which  adorn  the  sacred 
profession  of  priest  or  minister. 

When  I  grew  to  the  age  of  sixteen  or  thereabouts,  the  time 
at  which  a  boy  generally  begins  to  bethink  himself  of  the  fut- 
ure, I  found,  first,  that  I  could  not  look  forward  to  the  cas- 
sock without  a  feeling  of  repugnance  ;  and,  secondly,  that  there 


86  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

was  no  other  manner  of  work  in  which  I  took  any  interest, 
save  one,  which  for  a  while  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  In- 
deed, I  did  not  myself  consider  it  possible,  though  I  knew  very 
well  that  there  were  some — nay,  a  good  number — who  live 
creditably  by  exercising  the  art  of  painting,  which  was  the 
only  thing  I  loved. 

By  this  time  I  was  arrived,  by  continual  daily  practice,  and 
by  some  natural  aptitude,  at  a  certain  proficiency,  so  that  my 
drawings  of  ships  and  boats  and  the  like  were,  if  one  may  say 
so,  creditable  and  fit  to  be  shown  to  any  judge  of  such  mat- 
ters. But  when  I  ventured  to  hint,  in  my  father's  hearing, 
that  a  life  spent  in  this  occupation,  which  he  considered  friv- 
olous, might  be  full  of  delight  to  one  who  loved  drawing,  the 
thing  was  received  with  so  much  displeasure  that  I  dared  not 
for  some  time  to  open  the  subject  again,  but  went  on,  under 
his  directions,  making  bad  Latin  verses  and  reading  Cicero  and 
Virgil. 

I  then  began  to  consider  my  destined  profession  with  such 
a  distaste  as  amounted  to  abhorrence,  insomuch  that  had  I 
persisted  in  taking  those  vows  which  my  father  intended  and 
designed  for  me,  I  should  have  committed  a  most  deadly  sin, 
if  not  the  sin  which  is  unpardonable.  And  yet  I  ventured  not 
to  open  my  conscience  to  my  father,  fearing  his  displeasure, 
and  knowing  very  well  how  much  he  had  set  his  heart  upon 
my  following  in  his  footsteps.  I  was  at  length  encouraged  to 
do  so,  however,  partly  because  it  smote  my  soul  with  contri- 
tion to  go  on  pretending  acquiescence  in  my  father's  wishes, 
and  partly  by  a  thing  which  made  my  project  appear  more 
likely  of  success,  or,  at  least,  less  likely  to  end  in  disastrous 
failure. 

There  was  a  certain  John  Brooking,  of  Deptford,  now  very 
well  known  to  painters,  and  to  such  fame  as  belongs  to  mod- 
ern painters.  He  was  about  ten  years  older  than  myself,  and 
at  first  was  but  a  shipwright's  assistant  in  the  yard,  but  had 
no  heart  for  his  work,  and  wasted  his  time  in  drawing  the  work- 
shops, the  docks,  the  timbers,  bulkheads,  anchors,  everything 
that  there  is  to  be  drawn  in  the  yard,  even  giving  up  to  his  art 
the  whole  of  his  Sundays.  He  was  a  good-natured,  harmless 
kind  of  man,  who  cared  little  for  himself,  and  had  no  ambi- 
tion except  to  paint  all  day,  to  earn  enough  for  his  daily  wants, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  87 

and  to  spend  the  evenings  drinking  with  his  friends.  He 
presently  left  the  yard  and  went  away  to  London,  designing 
to  sell  his  drawings.  But  before  he  went  he  gave  me  great 
help  in  teaching  me,  so  far  as  he  himself  knew  them,  the  ele- 
ments of  perspective,  with  certain  simple  rules  of  geometry 
and  the  arrangement  of  lights,  and  showed  me  how  to  lay  on 
water-colors,  and  how  to  get  the  proper  tints,  and  how  to  pro- 
duce the  effects  I  desired.  I  know  not  how  he  lived  for  a  while, 
but  one  day  I  met  him  in  the  streets  of  Deptford,  and  he  told 
me  with  glee  that  he  had  found  a  man,  a  dealer  in  pictures, 
in  Leicester  Fields,  who  would  buy  his  drawings  of  ships,  as 
many  as  he  chose  to  paint,  at  a  guinea  apiece  (N.B. — He  af- 
terwards found  that  this  honest  dealer  sold  the  same  pictures 
for  ten  guineas  apiece),  and  that  therefore  he  was  now  a  made 
man,  and  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  on  with  the  work  he 
loved,  and  paint  every  day ;  which  he  did,  until  he  died  of  a 
consumption,  brought  on,  I  suspect,  by  much  strong  drink. 
However,  I  went  to  London,  and  visited  him  one  day  at  his 
lodging.  He  had  a  single  room  at  the  top  of  a  house  in  a  court 
close  to  the  Fields,  where  his  friend  the  dealer  had  his  shop ; 
it  was  a  good-sized  room,  with  a  large  window  looking  north, 
which  is  the  best  direction  for  light.  This  was  his  painting- 
room,  and  his  living-room,  bedroom,  and  kitchen — all  in  one. 
Never  was  a  room  so  littered  and  untidy  and  dirty.  But  John 
Brooking  cared  nothing  for  dirt.  He  worked  there  all  day 
long,  so  long  as  the  light  lasted,  or  he  made  sketches  and  stud- 
ies by  the  river-side,  which  he  afterwards  made  >into  finished 
pictures  in  this  simple  studio,  where  he  stood  at  his  easel,  never 
tired,  a  knitted  nightcap  on  his  head,  and  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
and  a  tobacco-pipe,  broken  short  off,  between  his  lips ;  for  he 
loved  tobacco  as  much  as  any  old  gypsy  woman. 

Well,  his  success,  such  as  it  was  (but  indeed  I  thought  of 
nothing  then  except  how  just  to  live  by  my  work,  so  only  that 
I  could  do  the  work  I  desired  to  do),  inflamed  me,  and  I  re- 
solved to  tell  all  to  my  father ;  which,  to  make  a  long  story 
short,  I  did,  though  with  many 'misgivings. 

He  is  dead  now ;  and,  I  doubt  not,  hath  gone  to  the  rest 
provided  for  the  faithful.  It  is  a  place  where  my  love  and 
gratitude  may  not  reach  him.  I  have  never  passed  so  unhap- 
py a  time  as  that  when  it  seemed  as  if  I  must  continue  my 


88  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

preparation  for  the  university,  in  order  to  perjure  my  soul  by 
declaring  falsely  that  I  was  singled  out  by  Heaven  to  follow  the 
holy  calling  of  a  minister ;  and  I  have  never  felt  so  truly  happy 
as  on  that  day  when  my  father,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  bade  me 
vex  my  soul  no  longer,  for  it  should  be  with  me  as  I  wished. 

So  I  left  Deptford,  and  went  to  London,  to  become  a  pupil 
of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Hayman ;  and  I  hope  that  I  have  since 
done  justice  to  the  instructions  of  that  great  painter.  But  I 
came  home  often,  partly  to  sketch  among  the  ships,  and  partly 
to  see  Castilla. 

Enough  of  my  affairs,  which  concern  this  story  but  little. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

AARON      FLETCHER. 

THE  sixth  year  came — nay,  it  had  run  half  its  course  and 
more — yet  no  news  of  the  Countess  of  Dorset.  And  there  was 
no  longer  any  doubt  that  the  ship  was  cast  away,  and  all  the 
crew  long  since  dead.  As  for  Jack,  who  had  been  our  hope 
and  our  pride,  of  whom  we  had  said  that  a  youth  so  brave  and 
so  masterful  must  needs  rise  to  greatness,  and  bring  credit 
upon  himself  and  those  who  had  been  his  friends,  none  now 
ever  spoke  a  word ;  or  if  they  did,  it  was  but  to  say  that  the 
loss  of  the  boy  had  brought  age  upon  the  admiral,  and  that 
'twas  a  great  pity  a  youth  of  such  goodly  promise  should  thus 
untimely  perish.  The  stars  had  lied ;  witchcraft  and  magic 
had  proved  of  no  avail. 

Jack  was  dead.  In  the  club  at  the  "Sir  John  Falstaff "  his 
ship  was  never  talked  of,  nor  was  there  any  further  speculation 
as  to  her  course,  for  the  admiral's  sake,  even  by  Mr.  Brinjes. 
And  by  all  the  world  the  boy  was  well-nigh  forgotten.  When 
the  greatest  of  living  men,  he  whose  name  is  most  in  men's 
mouths,  dies,  the  daily  life  of  the  world  is  no  whit  changed ; 
and  his  place,  even  in  his  own  work,  whatever  that  may  be,  is 
speedily  filled  up.  What,  then,  can  one  expect  in  the  case  of 
a  boy? 

But  in  Mr.  Brinjes's  parlor,  where  now  Bess  Westmoreland 
sat  every  afternoon,  for  company,  and  to  cheer  the  old  man's 


"He  stood  at  his  easel,  a  knitted  nightcap  on  his  head,  and  in  his 
shirt  sleeves." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  89 

heart,  Jack  was  not  forgotten.  These  two  talked  about  him 
still.  More  than  this — superstitiously  trusting  to  the  negress's 
magical  practices — they  confidently  expected  that  he  would  re- 
turn again.  Well,  in  the  event  the  forecast  proved  true ;  but 
if  we  are  to  trust  to  such  an  oracle,  where  is  religion  ?  If  an 
ignorant  negro  woman  is  permitted  to  find  out  by  her  witch- 
craft the  secrets  of  the  future,  and  to  foretell  them,  what  shall 
become  of  religion  ?  Then  farewell  faith ;  farewell  prayer ; 
farewell  trust  in  divine  Providence  ;  farewell  learning,  since 
ignorance  succeeds  where  wisdom  fails. 

In  six  years  Bess  had,  like  Castilla,  grown  from  a  child  to 
a  woman.  She  was  now  in  her  seventeenth  year,  not  yet  filled 
out  to  the  fulness  of  her  figure,  but  already  tall  and  shapely. 
If  she  had  been  dressed  in  rags  she  would  have  commanded 
attention ;  but  she  was  careful  of  her  dress,  and  went  always 
becomingly  attired,  though  not  above  her  station  (the  coral 
beads  that  we  know  of  were  placed  away  in  some  drawer  or 
box  out  of  sight).  She  was  so  tall  that  she  topped  her  father 
(but  he  was  round-shouldered)  by  a  head  and  neck,  and  there 
was  no  girl  in  all  the  town  within  her  height  by  an  inch  and 
more ;  she  bore  herself  like  a  lance,  so  straight  and  upright 
was  she.  Her  nose  and  chin  looked  as  if  they  had  been  carved 
by  a  skilful  sculptor  out  of  marble,  so  clear  and  delicate  were 
they ;  her  eyes  were  black,  as  was  her  hair ;  but  rosy  red  her 
lips,  and  pearly  white  her  teeth.  Like  many  black -haired 
women,  her  cheek  was  full,  but  somewhat  pale  in  color,  and 
her  throat  was  white,  not  with  such  a  whiteness  as  lent  another 
charm  to  the  complexion  of  Castilla,  which,  although  of  a  sweet 
and  delicate  white,  yet  glowed  with  a  rosy  warmth.  The  white- 
ness of  Bess  was  a  colder  or  deeper  white — a  white  that  does 
not  reflect  the  light,  such  as  some  Italian  painters  have  de- 
lighted to  portray ;  her  hands  were  small,  and  her  forehead 
low,  as  the  Greeks  loved  it ;  as  for  her  eyes,  they  were  soft 
and  deep,  save  when  she  was  roused,  and  then,  indeed,  they 
flashed  fire  and  flame.  As  became  her  station,  she  wore  no 
hoop,  and  dressed  her  hair  in  a  simple  knot ;  but  she  walked 
as  if  her  limbs  were  of  springing  steel,  and  I  am  sure  no  prin- 
cess in  a  hoop  and  patches  could  have  walked  more  like  a  god- 
dess ;  her  arms,  when  she  was  at  work,  were  the  whitest  ever 
seen,  and  the  best  shaped. 


90  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

I  have  never  disguised,  and  shall  never  disguise,  my  belief, 
though  Castilla  will  not  agree  with  me — that  is,  she  assents, 
but  without  warmth — that  Bess  was  the  most  beautiful  girl 
then  living ;  and  this  I  can  the  more  fairly  say,  because  I  was 
never  in  love  with  her,  any  more  than  a  painter  is  in  love  with 
his  model.  As  for  love  between  Bess  Westmoreland  and  my- 
self, that  was  always  impossible.  Yet  for  suitors  she  never 
lacked  any,  though  she  sent  all  away,  not  with  discourtesy,  or 
with  mockery,  or  with  mirth,  as  some  girls  will — as  if  it  is  a 
fine  thing  to  dash  the  hopes  of  an  honest  lad,  and  as  if  lovers 
can  be  had  for  the  trouble  of  picking  them  up — but  with  firm- 
ness and  with  dignity,  being  too  proud  to  encourage  them,  or 
to  suffer  them  to  believe  that  she  wanted  their  wooing.  Some 
of  them  were  substantial  and  reputable  men,  whom  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  mere  penman  might  have  been  proud  to  marry.  Why, 
if  he  had  died,  what  would  she  have  done  for  her  daily  bread  ? 
To  my  own  knowledge  one  of  her  wooers  was  gunner's  mate 
in  the  king's  navy,  another  was  a  master  wheelwright  in  the 
king's  yard,  a  third  was  foreman  in  the  Greenland  dock,  and 
I  dare  say  there  were  more  of  equally  respectable  place.  It 
became  a  proverb  that  there  was  no  man  good  enough  for  Bess 
Westmoreland  ;  and  the  other  girls,  who  might  otherwise  have 
been  envious  of  her  charms,  regarded  her  with  open  admira- 
tion, because  she  was  not  only  much  more  beautiful  than  them- 
selves, yet  wished  to  carry  away  none  of  their  sweethearts. 

One  lover  alone,  out  of  all,  stuck  by  her,  and  refused  to  take 
her  "  No"  for  an  answer.  This  was  Aaron  Fletcher,  now  grown 
into  a  young  giant,  who  carried  on  his  father's  business  of  boat- 
builder,  yet  was  of  roving  disposition,  and  kept  his  smack  at 
Gravesend  or  at  Leigh,  in  which  he  went  fishing.  Those,  how- 
ever, who  spoke  of  those  fishing  voyages  were  apt  to  laugh,  and 
to  ask  why  that  fishing-boat  never  came  back  by  daylight. 

"  I  have  told  you,"  said  Bess — "  I  have  told  you  a  hundred 
times,  Aaron,  that  I  will  not  listen  to  you.  Wherefore  go  away 
in  peace,  and  trouble  me  no  longer.  Why,  there  are  dozens  of 
other  girls  in  Deptford,  and  plenty  better-looking  than  me, 
would  take  you,  and  that  joyfully." 

"  There  are  not  plenty  for  me,"  he  replied.  "  I  want  but 
one.  And,  Bess,  I  shall  never  give  up  asking.  There's  no- 
body in  the  world  loves  you  better,  or  would  do  more  for  thee. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  91 

Why  am  I  not  good  enough  ?  There's  money  in  the  stocking, 
Bess,  now  father  is  dead — ay  !  and  more  than  you  think — and 
more  to  come.  There's  as  good  business  doing  in  my  yard  as 
in  any  boat-builder's  on  the  river,  not  to  speak  of  the  smack, 
which  does  a  tidy  stroke,  take  year  and  year  about.  I  am  not  a 
drunkard,  though  once  a  week  or  so  I  may  take  my  glass  with 
the  rest.  I  am  strong,  and  I  am  young.  I  wouldn't  strike  a 
woman  nor  treat  her  cruel.  I'd  be  true  and  faithful.  Come, 
Bess,  what  is  the  matter  with  me,  that  thou  canst  not  say 
'Yea?'" 

Well  would  it  have  been  for  her,  and  for  another,  too,  if  she 
could  have  said  "Yea,"  and  taken  him.  Why  did  she  not? 
He  was  tall  and  strong,  and  handsome  of  his  kind ;  he  was  not 
esteemed  to  be  ill-tempered ;  he  was  not  at  that  time  a  drink- 
er, save  of  a  cheerful  glass ;  he  had  a  good  character,  save 
for  the  reputation  of  these  fishing  voyages  of  his,  which  did 
him  no  hurt  with  any  one.  Did  not  the  admiral  himself  put 
Aaron's  Nantz  upon  his  own  table  ?  He  would  have  made 
Bess  a  good  husband,  if  any  could,  because  such  a  woman,  if 
she  is  to  be  happy,  must  needs  have  a  strong  man  for  a  hus- 
band, and  one  who  will  rule  her  and  make  her  respect  him. 
Well  indeed  it  would  have  been  for  her  if  she  had  taken  this 
brave  fellow  ;  but  she  could  not. 

"  Bess,"  he  said,  "  you  can't  be  thinking  still  upon  that  mid- 
shipman ?  Why,  he  was  but  a  boy,  and  you  were  a  child. 
He's  cast  away  and  dead  long  ago ;  and  if  he  was  not,  he 
wouldn't  remember  you." 

But  she  made  no  reply. 

"  'Tisn't  for  love  of  him,  Bess,  is  it  ?  Why,  I  fought  him 
half  a  dozen  times ;  and  if  he  were  to  come  back,  I  would 
fight  him  again." 

She  laughed  scornfully.  "  'Tis  true,  Aaron,  the  last  fight  I 
saw;  and  where  were  you  at  the  end  of  it?  Rubbing  your 
head,  and  looking  ruefully  at  your  broken  finger.  And  where 
was  Jack  ?  Walking  away  with  a  laugh.  But  don't  talk  to 
me  about  Jack.  Perhaps  he  is  dead.  Living  or  dead,  I  don't 
suppose  he  would  remember  or  care  for  a  poor  girl  like  me. 
But  I  can't  marry  you,  Aaron." 

"  You  shall,"  he  continued,  with  an  oath.  "  You  shall.  I 
will  make  you  promise  to  marry  me." 


92  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

This  was  a  prophecy  not  made  by  an  oracle.  Yet,  strange 
to  say,  it  came  true — in  a  sense.  To  be  sure,  it  was  not  the 
sense  that  Aaron  intended.  It  has  been  observed  that  such 
prophecies,  together  with  all  the  prophecies  of  witches  and 
magicians,  when  they  do  come  true,  never  happen  in  the  way 
hoped  for  when  the  prophecy  is  uttered.  Certainly,  as  you 
shall  see,  Aaron's  prophecy  did  turn  out  true,  but  the  result  was 
not  what  he  had  expected  and  desired.  In  the  same  way  Mr. 
Brinjes's  prediction  about  the  South  Sea  also  proved  true,  yet 
not  in  the  sense  desired  and  expected  by  him.  As  you  shall 
also  discover. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Bess,  "  I  will  promise  to  marry  you,  Aaron 
— when  I  love  you.  Can  a  girl  say  fairer  ?  Go  away  now, 
Aaron ;  go  away  and  find  some  other  woman  who  wants  to  go 
marrying,  and  take  pity  on  her,  if  you  can.  But  as  for  me,  I 
will  marry  no  man." 

However,  he  renewed  his  importunity,  offering  her  presents, 
which  she  refused,  such  as  parcels  of  lace,  flasks  of  Nantz  for 
her  father,  rolls  of  silk,  and  so  forth,  all  got,  I  doubt  not,  in  the 
way  of  his  fishing,  and  always  declaring,  in  his  masterful  way, 
that  sooner  or  later  she  should  promise  to  marry  him. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW   JACK    CAME    HOME    AGAIN. 

AND  now  I  have  to  tell  how  Jack  was  joyfully  restored  to 
us.  It  was  in  sorry  plight,  and  after  many  disasters  and  sore 
privations,  which  killed  his  companions,  but  left  him — to  look 
upon — none  the  worse,  when  he  came  back  to  good  food  and 
decent  clothes  again.  I  think  that  no  one  had  ever  a  more 
wonderful  story  to  tell,  and  yet  there  was  never  a  worse  hand 
at  telling  his  adventures.  Lucky  it  was  for  Ulysses,  and  for 
^Eneas,  that  they  found  poets  to  sing  their  sufferings  and  their 
wanderings,  for,  I  dare  say,  the  former,  at  least,  would  have 
made  a  poor  hand  at  telling  them  himself.  A  greater  than 
Ulysses  was  here ;  and  no  one,  until  now,  has  ever  told,  save 
imperfectly,  the  story  of  his  voyage.  It  will  never  be  narrated 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  93 

as  it  ought  to  be,  movingly,  and  to  the  life ;  and  the  sailing  of 
the  Countess  of  Dorset  among  the  Pacific  Islands,  and  the  dis- 
coveries which  she  made,  and  the  dreadful  calamities  which  be- 
fell the  ship  and  the  crew,  will  no  more  be  remembered  than 
if  she  had  been  some  poor  and  insignificant  collier,  cast  away, 
with  her  crew  of  half  a  dozen  men  and  a  boy,  on  the  Goodwin 
Sands. 

It  is  also  a  strange  circumstance  that  his  life  should  have 
been  saved  by  the  man  who,  man  and  boy,  was  his  steady  and 
constant  enemy.  Nay,  as  you  will  see  in  the  sequel,  his  life 
was  once  more  saved  by  the  same  hand — a  thing  which  clearly 
shows  the  hand  of  Providence,  if  it  were  only  designed  in 
mercy  as  a  rebuke  to  the  man  who  desired  and  even  endeavored 
to  compass  the  death  of  his  enemy  and  rival.  Yet  I  never 
heard  tell  that  Aaron  Fletcher  repented  of  the  hatred  which  he 
always  bore  to  Jack. 

One  night  in  the  month  of  September,  and  the  year  seven- 
teen hundred  and  fifty-six — a  dark  and  cloudy  night,  the  stars 
hidden  and  no  moon,  a  light  breeze  flying,  but  only  in  puffs, 
and  hardly  enough  to  fill  the  canvas,  and  a  soft  and  soaking 
rain  falling — a  small  vessel,  rigged  with  foresail,  spritsail,  main- 
sail, and  topsail,  was  slowly  making  her  way  across  the  German 
Ocean.  ,Her  name  was  the  Willing  Mind,  of  Sheerness;  she 
was  manned  by  a  crew  of  five,  two  more  than  are  generally 
taken  on  board  a  fishing-craft  of  her  dimensions.  Of  these 
men  the  skipper  sat  in  the  stern,  the  ropes  in  his  hand,  two 
were  lying  asleep  beside  the  skipper,  covered  with  a  tarpaulin, 
and  two  were  in  the  bows  keeping  watch.  She  carried  no  light, 
but  she  was  sailing  well  north  of  the  track  of  outward-bound 
vessels,  and  was  by  this  time  too  close  to  the  Essex  coast  to 
fear  being  run  down  by  colliers.  Perhaps  the  watch  was  on 
the  lookout  for  lights  on  the  coast,  or  for  a  king's  revenue-cut- 
ter, of  which  there  are  many  along  the  east  coast,  and  they 
greatly  molest  this  kind  of  craft,  overhauling  them  suspicious- 
ly, and  searching  for  brandy  and  the  like,  impressing  the  hon- 
est fishermen  on  board,  and  sometimes  even  imprisoning  them, 
haling  them  before  a  magistrate,  and  bringing  them  to  trial ; 
and  even,  if  they  show  much  resistance,  hanging  them ;  and 
by  their  very  appearance  always  obliging  the  crew  to  throw 
overboard,  if  they  have  time,  the  whole  of  their  cargo.  It  gen- 


94  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

erally  consists  of  a  strange  kind  of  fish,  in  the  shape  of  kegs, 
runlets,  and  jars,  with  bungs  and  corks  in  their  mouths.  Per- 
haps the  Willing  Mind  showed  no  light  because  the  skipper 
and  his  crew  dreaded  being  captured  by  a  French  privateer; 
for  we  were  again  at  war  with  France,  and  the  Channel  was 
crowded  with  these  hornets,  though,  as  a  rule,  they  hardly 
ventured  north  of  the  Goodwin  Sands,  or  off  the  Nore. 

The  boat  slipped  through  the  water  slowly  and  silently,  save 
for  a  gentle  ripple  in  the  bows.  There  was  little  way  on  her, 
but  she  kept  moving. 

"  I  take  it,"  said  the  skipper,  grumbling,  "  that  it  is  already 
past  midnight ;  we  ought  to  have  made  Shoeburyness  by  now. 
In  three  hours  it  will  be  daylight,  and  perhaps  the  dogs  upon 
us — and  with  such  a  cargo  !" 

"  The  breeze  will  freshen  with  the  dawn,  master,"  said  one 
of  the  men  in  the  bow. 

"  And  then  it  may  be  too  late.  And  we  haven't  had  such  a 
cargo  for  a  twelvemonth.  What  is  that  off  the  starboard 
bow?" 

"  It  looks  like  a  buoy.  But  it  can't  be  a  buoy  !"  It  was  a 
black  object,  indistinct  as  yet,  but  they  were  nearing  it.  Pres- 
ently a  hoarse  cry  of  "  Sail  ahoy  !"  came  across  the  water.  It 
was  repeated  twice. 

"  It  is  a  boat,  with  four  men  in  her,"  said  the  watch,  making 
her  out.  "  A  little  dingy  she  is.  Now  what  the  plague  is  she 
doing  out  here  ?" 

"  Sail  ahoy  !"  came  across  the  water  again.  And  now  they 
could  distinguish  the  figures  of  three  or  four  men  standing  up 
in  the  boat. 

The  skipper  cursed  and  swore,  and  put  up  his  helm. 

"  Sail  ahoy  !  for  Jesus'  sake  !  We  are  sinking !"  cried  the 
men. 

The  skipper  cursed  and  swore  again,  louder  and  deeper ;  but 
he  altered  his  course,  and  bore  down  upon  the  boat. 

There  were  five  men  in  her,  but  one  of  them  lay  in  the  stern 
with  his  head  upon  his  arms,  motionless.  The  boat  had  nei- 
ther oars,  mast,  nor  sails ;  she  was  half  full  of  water,  and  the 
men  were  baling  her  with  their  hats. 

"  For  God's  sake,  take  us  aboard  !"  they  cried.  "  It  is  as 
much  as  we  can  do  to  keep  afloat,  and  we  are  starving !" 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  95 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  the  skipper. 

"  We  .have  broke  from  a  French  prison,"  they  told  him ; 
"  and  four  days  out,  and  nothing  to  eat." 

Still  the  skipper  hesitated. 

"  Cap'en,"  said  one  of  the  men,  "  we  can  guess  pretty  easy 
who  you  are  and  what  is  your  business.  That  is  nothing  to 
us.  Take  us  on  board.  You  sha'n't  regret  it.  Only  take  us 
on  board  and  give  us  something  to  eat,  and  set  us  ashore  on 
English  soil ;  and  if  you  were  laden  with  all  the  brandy  there 
is  in  the  world,  you  should  never  be  sorry  for  coming  to  our 
help." 

The  skipper  cursed  them  again  for  interrupting  his  run. 
But  it  would  have  been  the  most  shocking  inhumanity  to  re- 
fuse ;  therefore,  with  a  bad  grace,  and  sulkily,  he  ordered  them 
to  get  on  board  as  quickly  as  they  could.  This  they  did ;  but 
they  had  to  help  the  man  in  the  stern,  because  he  had  got  an 
open  wound  in  his  head  and  had  lost  much  blood,  besides  be- 
ing nearly  starved.  So  they  lifted  him  in  and  laid  him  on  a 
tarpaulin,  and  cast  off  their  crazy  little  boat,  and  the  smack 
went  on  her  course  again. 

Then  the  skipper,  who  was  not  wanting  in  generosity,  though 
he  cursed  them  for  stopping  him,  pulled  out  of  the  locker  such 
provisions  as  might  be  expected  in  such  a  craft — consisting 
only  of  bread,  mouldy  Dutch  cheese,  and  some  onions.  But, 
Lord !  if  these  had  been  the  greatest  dainties  ever  set  before 
an  alderman,  the  men  could  not  have  devoured  the  food  more 
greedily ;  even  the  wounded  man  lifting  his  head  and  eating 
ravenously.  WTien  there  was  nothing  at  all  left  to  be  eaten,  the 
skipper  passed  round  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  a  pannikin,  which 
were  received  with  heartfelt  gratitude  too  deep  for  power  of 
speech.  For  cold  and  starving  men,  bread  and  cheese  and 
onions  make  a  banquet;  but  brandy  in  addition — oh!  'twas 
too  much ! 

When  they  had  eaten  up  everything,  therefore,  and  drunk  as 
much  brandy  as  their  rescuer  would  give  them,  they  began,  as 
sailors  will,  through  a  spokesman,  to  relate  their  story.  Every- 
body knows  that  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war  the  French  fleet 
put  so  many  privateers  to  sea,  and  we  had  so  few,  that  there 
was  nothing  but  the  capture  of  English  merchantmen  going 
up  and  down  the  Channel,  and  the  French  prisons  were  soon 


96  THE    WORLD    WENT    VEEY    WELL    THEN. 

choked  with  poor  devils  laid  up  by  the  heels,  and  waiting  for 
a  general  exchange,  or  for  the  close  of  the  war,  to  be  released. 
Three  of  the  men  had  been  taken  by  a  privateer  out  of  a  West- 
Indiaman,  and  conveyed  with  others  up  the  country  to  a  place 
called  St.  Omer,  which  is  a  fortified  town  some  twenty  miles 
from  Dunquerque,  and  about  the  same  distance  from  Calais, 
and  were  then  clapped  into  prison  in  the  citadel,  or  the  bar- 
racks, or  the  town  jail,  I  know  not  which.  Wherever  it  was, 
they  found  there,  among  the  other  prisoners,  the  man  who  lay 
wounded  on  the  tarpaulin,  not  able  to  sit  up,  and  saying  noth- 
ing. And  he  it  was,  they  said,  who  had  devised  the  plan  of 
their  escape.  There  were  a  dozen  more  who  were  in  the  plot, 
and  should  have  made  the  attempt,  but  at  the  last  moment  they 
lost  heart,  as  always  happens  in  an  adventure  so  desperate,  and 
remained  behind.  As  things  turned  out,  it  was  lucky  that 
there  were  no  more  of  them,  because  there  was  certainly  no 
room  for  any  more  in  their  rickety  little  boat. 

I  do  not  rightly  understand  how  the  escape  was  effected,  be- 
cause in  the  subject  of  fortifications  I  am  ignorant,  though  Jack 
hath  often  endeavored  to  explain  to  me  the  nature  of  scarp, 
counterscarp,  bastion,  and  so  forth.  However,  they  surmounted 
all  these  difficulties,  and  in  the  dead  of  night  they  found  them- 
selves on  the  right  side  of  the  ramparts — that  is,  on  the  outside 
— and  with  open  country  all  round  them.  Then,  steering  by 
the  stars,  they  made  due  north.  Before  they  got  half-way  on 
their  journey  they  were  surprised  by  dawn,  and  forced  to  seek 
a  hiding-place,  which  they  found  in  a  wood  or  coppice  beside 
a  river,  where  the  shelter  was  good,  though  the  lying  was  wet 
and  swampy.  Here  they  stayed  all  day,  with  nothing  to  eat  ex- 
cept a  few  berries,  then  happily  ripe.  At  nightfall  they  started 
again,  and,  as  they  judged,  soon  after  midnight  found  them- 
selves on  a  sandy  coast  somewhere  between  Calais  and  Dun- 
querque, near  a  place  called  Gravelines.  But  there  was  no  boat 
on  this  open  and  deserted  coast,  and  they  wandered  up  and 
down  for  a  long  time  seeking  for  one,  and  fearing  lest  they 
might  again  have  to  seek  a  night's  shelter.  When,  at  last, 
they  found  one,  it  was  hauled  up  high  and  dry  on  the  sand. 
This  would  have  mattered  little ;  but,  unluckily,  her  owner,  or 
a  man  who  behaved  like  her  owner,  was  sleeping  on  the  sand 
beside  her.  There  was  no  choice,  but  they  must  needs  have 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.  97 

her,  and  while  they  dragged  her  down  to  the  sea,  the  French- 
man woke  up,  and  perceiving  that  he  was  being  robbed  of  his 
boat,  he  lugged  out  a  knife  and  made  at  them,  and  before  he 
could  be  fairly  knocked  on  the  head,  gave  their  leader  a  des- 
perate cut  across  the  face,  from  which  he  lost  a  great  deal  of 
blood  and  was  much  weakened.  They  got  him  safely  into  the 
boat,  however,  though  he  was  fainting  from  the  wound,  and  so 
put  to  sea,  and  hoped  to  be  able  to  row  across  the  Channel,  if 
they  should  have  the  good  luck  to  'scape  the  privateers,  and 
make  the  port  of  Dover  in  eight  or  ten  hours ;  or  perhaps  they 
might  be  picked  up  by  some  English  ship,  if  they  were  lucky. 
They  had  neither  mast  nor  sail  in  the  boat,  and  there  were  no 
provisions  in  it  of  any  kind.  Also,  as  they  quickly  discovered, 
she  very  soon  sprang  aleak,  and  had  to  be  baled  out  continually. 
They  rowed  on,  however,  taking  turns,  for  three  or  four  hours. 
Then  a  most  unfortunate  thing  happened.  For  while  two  of 
them  were  rowing  lustily,  in  their  eagerness  to  lose  no  time, 
and  to  get  across  and  land  on  English  soil  again,  and  the  oars 
being  not  only  small,  but  old  and  rotten,  they  both  snapped 
short  off  close  to  the  rowlock  at  the  same  time.  This  accident 
dashed  all  their  hopes,  for  though  they  tore  up  two  of  the 
boat's  planks,  thinking  to  row  with  them,  it  was  slow  work ; 
then  they  tried  to  make  a  sail  with  a  shirt  and  one  of  these 
planks,  there  being  a  light  breeze  from  the  sou'west,  and  they 
got,  as  they  supposed,  into  the  current.  They  were  carried 
certainly,  as  they  discovered  at  daybreak,  out  of  sight  of  the 
French  coast,  but  also,  which  was  another  misfortune,  outside 
the  track  of  ships,  and  so,  though  they  saw  many  sail  in  the 
distance,  they  passed  none  near  enough  to  be  picked  up,  and 
in  this  miserable  condition  tossed  and  drifted  for  four  days 
and  four  nights,  and  were  now  well-nigh  spent,  and  the  leak  in 
the  boat  growing  every  moment  worse,  so  that  she  threatened 
to  fill  with  water  and  to  sink  under  them  unless  they  baled  con- 
tinually. 

"  It's  easy  guessing,"  they  repeated,  after  they  had  told  their 
story,  "  what  you've  got  on  board :  that's  no  concern  of  ours. 
Only  you  put  us  ashore.  Without  making  bold  to  inquire  fur- 
ther, tell  us  where  we  are,  and  how  far  from  shore." 

"  As  to  where  we  are,"  said  the  skipper,  "  the  night  is  dark, 
and  I  don't  rightly  know.     But  to*  the  best  of  my  guessing  we 
5 


98  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

are  not  far  from  Shoeburyness,  which  should  lay  right  ahead ; 
but  the  shore  is  low,  and  difficult  to  make  out." 

"  Mate,"  said  the  spokesman,  "  land  us  as  far  from  any  port 
as  you  can.  I  guess  the  press  is  hot  up  the  river." 

The  skipper  said  that  there  was  a  very  hot  press ;  that,  as  to 
himself,  he  was  going  to  land  at  Shoeburyness,  where  he  could 
put  them  ashore  and  they  could  then  shift  for  themselves,  and 
make  their  way  inland,  if  so  be  they  had  friends  anywhere. 

"  As  for  this  poor  fellow,"  said  the  man,  pointing  to  the  one 
who  was  lying  down,  "  he  says  he's  an  officer,  though  he  doesn't 
look  like  one  in  those  rags  of  his.  So  he's  got  nothing  to  fear 
from  a  press.  Don't  put  him  ashore,  skipper.  Take  him  to 
some  place  where  he  will  get  his  wound  dressed.  If  what  he 
says  is  true,  he  will  be  able  to  pay  you  for  the  service." 

"  I  will  take  him,"  said  the  skipper,  "  to  Gravesend.  That  is 
all  I  can  do  for  him.  After  that  he  must  shift  for  himself." 

Shortly  after  this,  and  before  daybreak,  they  made  the  land 
between  the  village  of  Southend  and  Shoeburyness.  Here  they 
landed  the  four  men,  who,  with  many  vows  of  gratitude,  ex- 
pressed in  sailor-like  fashion  —  namely,  with  appeals  to  the 
Divine  Power  to  blast  them  and  sink  them  if  they  ever  forgot 
this  service  —  quickly  vanished  inland.  It  matters  nothing 
what  became  of  these  poor  fellows ;  but  intelligence  came  from 
Maldon  shortly  afterwards  that  a  gang  of  four  men,  dressed  like 
sailors,  had  been  apprehended  stealing  a  sheep.  They  made  a 
desperate  fight,  and  one  of  the  posse  comitatus  was  dangerously 
wounded.  In  the  end  they  were  overpowered,  and  taken  to 
Chelmsford  Jail,  where  in  due  course  they  were  all  hanged. 
If  these  were  the  men  landed  from  the  Willing  Mind,  the  poor 
wretches  had  better  have  remained  in  their  prison  at  St.  Omer, 
where,  at  least,  they  were  living  a  life  of  innocency,  although 
half  starved  with  their  meagre  soup  and  sour  bread.  But  per- 
haps the  men  who  were  hanged  were  another  gang. 

Now,  as  regards  the  cargo  of  the  Willing  Mind — I  mean 
that  load  of  fish,  all  with  corks  and  bungs  in  their  mouths — it 
would  be  a  shame  for  me  to  disclose  where  it  was  landed,  and 
by  whom  it  was  received,  though  one  may  know  very  well.  I 
am  not  a  spy  and  an  informer ;  the  revenue  officers  may  find 
out  for  themselves  the  secrets  of  the  trade  which  they  have  to 
stop,  if  they  can.  I  say  not  whether  it  is  such  a  trade  as  a 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  99 

person  of  tender  conscience  may  undertake,  but,  at  least,  this 
much  may  be  said  for  it — that  those  who  practise  it  know  be- 
forehand the  risks  they  run,  and  the  punishment  which  awaits 
them  if  they  are  captured. 

Enough  to  say  that  the  landing  was  successful,  and  that 
about  noon  that  day  the  Willing  Mind,  now  in  ballast,  was 
running  up  the  Thames  with  full  sail,  wind  and  tide  favorable, 
bound  for  Gravesend ;  and  the  wounded  man  was  so  far  re- 
covered that  he  was  now  sitting  up  and  looking  about  him. 
He  was  a  wild  creature  to  look  at,  being,  to  begin  with,  horribly 
thin,  as  if  he  had  had  no  food  for  months ;  he  had  suffered  his 
beard  to  grow,  and  it  now  covered  his  whole  face,  so  that  he 
looked  like  a  Turk,  with  his  hair  long  and  uncombed ;  his  head 
was  bound  up  with  a  dirty  and  bloody  clout,  which  hid  one 
eye;  there  was  blood  upon  his  cheek.  Presently,  while  he 
looked  about  him  with  lack-lustre  gaze,  the  pain  of  his  wound 
being  great,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  skipper,  and  he  started  and 
became  suddenly  alive  and  alert. 

"  Aaron  Fletcher,  by  the  Lord !"  he  cried. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  replied  the  skipper.  "  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  it.  But  I  don't  know  you,  mate." 

"  You  have  forgotten  me,  Aaron.  If  you  had  known  me, 
you  would  have  been  all  the  more  anxious  to  save  my  life.  Of 
that  I  am  well  assured.  We  should  have  foundered  in  five 
minutes.  As  for  me,  I  cared  nothing  whether  we  sank  or 
swam.  All  is  one  to  a  starving  man.  Give  me  another  tot  of 
brandy,  Aaron.  Don't  you  recognize  me  now  ?" 

"  Man,  I  never  clapped  eyes  on  you  before  to  my  knowledge. 
But  since  you  know  my  name,  and  therefore,  likely,  where  I 
live,  so  that  you  might  do  mischief,  let  me  tell  you" — here  he 
insisted  or  emphasized  the  assurance  by  a  dozen  or  two  of  round 
oaths,  such  as  he  and  his  kind  have  always  ready  to  hand  for 
all  purposes — "  that  if  you  are  going  to  turn  informer,  after  all 
you  have  seen,  it  would  be  better  for  you  if  we  had  thrown  you 
overboard  at  once  with  a  shot  to  your  heels.  One  or  other  of 
us,  my  lad,  will  have  your  blood." 

The  other  men  of  the  crew  murmured  approval  of  this  senti- 
ment with  additions  of  their  own  invention,  about  cutting  the 
weasand,  breaking  bones  and  limbs,  gouging  out  eyes,  and  so 
forth. 


100  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  The  same  old  Aaron,"  said  the  man.  "  Why,  you  have  not 
changed,  save  that  you  are  stouter  and  bigger.  The  same  sweet 
and  unsuspicious  temper.  I  wonder  if  there  is  another  such 
treat  in  store  for  us  both  as  we  had  when  last  we  met  ?" 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  ?"  asked  Aaron,  staring,  partly  be- 
cause the  man  knew  him,  and  because  so  ragged  a  fellow  should 
talk  with  such  boldness.  But  as  yet  quite  unsuspecting. 

"  That,  my  friend,  if  you  cannot  guess,  I  shall  not  tell  you. 
As  for  your  kegs,  fear  not.  I  care  nothing  where  they  were 
bestowed,  nor  to  whom  they  were  consigned,  nor  where  they 
came  from.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  are  safe.  Besides, 
you  have  saved  my  life.  This  cut  in  the  head,  d'ye  see,  cost 
me  so  much  blood  that  I  do  not  think  I  could  have  endured  an- 
other night  of  starvation.  Why,  man,  I  have  had  to  live  for 
weeks  with  nothing  but  a  taste  now  and  again,  when  the  chance 
came,  of  putrid  seal  or  rotten  fish !  I'm  downright  tired  of 
starving." 

"  Who  are  you,  then  ?"  Aaron  looked  at  him  hard,  but  could 
make  nothing  of  him. 

Yet  it  was  strange  that  he  did  not  begin  to  suspect.  This, 
I  take  it,  was  because,  like  everybody  else,,  he  had  quite  made 
up  his  mind  that  Jack  was  long  since  dead,  and  so  he  was  gone 
clean  out  of  his  mind.  This  is  so  when  a  man  is  dead.  His 
face  goes  out  of  our  mind  because  we  never  think  to  meet  him 
again. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  it  don't  signify  a  button  who 
you  are.  You've  got  nothing  against  me,  even  should  you  lay 
information.  But  you're  down  on  your  luck,  whoever  you  be. 
And  you've  the  cut  of  a  sailor  about  you.  Wherefore,  mate, 
take  my  advice  and  keep  well  inshore,  for  the  press  is  hot  all 
the  way  from  Margate  to  Chelsea,  and,  wounded  or  not,  they'll 
have  you  if  they  can,  and  three  dozen  or  more  for  skulking,  if 
you  are  not  fit  for  duty  in  four-and-twenty  hours." 

"  Thank  you,  Aaron,"  the  man  replied,  and  so  lay  down  again 
and  went  to  sleep.  But  Aaron  kept  looking  at  him,  uneasy, 
yet  not  able  to  remember  him. 

So  they  made  their  way  to  Gravesend,  and  arrived  off  that 
port  in  the  afternoon. 

"  I  thank  you,  Aaron,"  said  the  passenger,  waking  up  and 
getting  to  his  feet.  "  The  food  and  the  brandy  and  the  sleep 


THE    WORLD   WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  101 

have  set  me  up  again.  I  believe  I  shall  be  able  GO  walk  the 
rest  of  the  journey.  One  more  favor,  Aaror.  .After  saving 
my  life  it  is  a  small  thing  for  you  to  do.  I  am  without  a  single 
penny.  Lend  me  a  shilling,  which  I  will  bring  myself  to  the 
boathouse  and  repay  you  when  you  come  home.  You  don't 
know  me,  Aaron  !  Why,  man,  how  goes  the  boat-building  ?" 

Aaron  produced  the  money,  still  staring  with  all  his  eyes,  as 
the  children  say. 

"  A  shilling,  Aaron,  is  not  much.  If  it  was  six  years  ago,  I 
should  say  we  would  fight  for  it."  So  he  dashed  back  the  hair 
that  hung  about  his  face,  and  looked  Aaron  full  in  the  face  with 
a  laugh. 

"  Good  Lord !"  cried  Aaron.     "  It's  Jack  Easterbrook !" 

"  Mr.  Easterbrook,  ye  dog.  I  am  in  rags,  but  I  am  a  king's 
officer  still,  and  you  are  nothing  but  a  common  smuggler." 

"  It's  Mr.  Jack  Easterbrook,"  Aaron  repeated.  "  He's  come 
back  again !" 

"  As  for  this  shilling,  Aaron,  shall  we  fight  for  it  now  ?" 

"  But —  Oh  Lord !  How  in  the  world  did  you  get  in  such 
rags  as  this  ?  And  where's  the  Countess  of  Dorset  ?" 

"  As  for  the  rags,  where  I  got  them  was  in  the  Isle  of  Chiloe, 
off  the  Patagonian  coast,  and  if  I  had  not  got  them  I  should 
have  come  home  as  naked  as  Adam  in  his  innocency.  And  as 
for  the  Countess  of  Dorset,  her  timbers  are  where  I  got  my  rags, 
on  the  coast  of  South  America,  and  her  crew  are  mostly  beside 
her  timbers,  such  parts  of  them,  that  is,  as  the  crabs  have  not 
been  able  to  devour." 

"  O  Lord !"  Aaron  gazed  as  if  at  a  ghost,  and  could  say  no 
more. 

"  Do  they  think  me  dead,  Aaron  ?" 

"  All  of  them — except,  I'm  told,  Mr.  Brinjes." 

"  Oh  !     And  the  admiral «" 

"  It  isn't  for  the  likes  of  me  to  know  what  his  honor  thinks, 
sir,"  said  Aaron.  "  But  he's  been  going  heavy  for  a  good  time 
past,  and  they  do  say  as  how  he  frets  more  than  a  bit  about 
your  drowning." 

Jack  was  silent  for  a  bit. 

"  And  Bess  Westmoreland  ?"  he  asked. 

"  What  has  she  got  to  think  about  you  for  ?  You  are  a  gen- 
tleman, though  in  rags  at  this  present  moment.  As  for  Bess, 


102  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

she  is  but  the' daughter  of  a  penman.  She  belongs  to  the  likes 
•£f  •irs,Ji)/>t;to  gep.tleman  officers." 

'"  She  must  be  grown  a  big  girl  now.  Well,  Aaron,  and  Mr. 
Brinjes  ?" 

"  He's  a  devil.  He's  worse  than  ever.  He  gave  Lance  Pegg, 
of  Anchor  Alley,  the  rheumatics  last  week,  and  threatens  her 
with  worse  for  rope's-endin'  that  girl  of  hers.  He's  a  devil ! 
and  never  a  day  older  since  your  honor  went  away." 

"  So,  Aaron,  you  have  saved  my  life,  though  you  did  not  in- 
tend it.  Yet  I  take  it  kindly.  I  do  not  think  you  would  have 
suffered  your  old  townsman  and  your  old  crony,  whom  you  used 
to  fight  whenever  you  met  him,  to  drown,  if  you  had  known 
who  was  in  the  boat." 

"  I  would  not,  sir,"  said  Aaron,  stoutly.  "  Yet,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I'd  as  lief  you  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  in  Davy's 
locker,  where  we  all  thought  you  were,  and  where  you  ought 
to  be  by  rights,  your  ship  and  the  crew  all  being  there  except 
you." 

"  Give  me  thy  hand,  Aaron." 

So  they  shook  hands. 

"  As  for  the  shilling,  sir,"  said  Aaron,  "  let  me  make  it  a 
guinea ;  and  if  your  honor  will  let  me  pay  for  a  decent  suit  of 
clothes,  or  shoes,  at  least — " 

"  Nay,  Aaron.  As  you  found  me,  so  shall  they  find  me. 
The  shilling  will  be  enough  to  pay  for  all  I  want ;  and  I  have 
gone  so  long  barefooted  that  my  feet  are  as  hard  as  leather, 
and  feel  not  the  road.  As  for  the  shilling,  we  will,  perhaps, 
fight  for  it.  But  not  yet.  You  would  not,  I  am  sure,  being  an 
honorable  man,  wish  me  to  fight  until  I  have  recovered  my 
strength.  Farewell,  Aaron." 

So  he  stepped  ashore,  and  with  such  lightness  of  step  as  re- 
minded Aaron  of  the  old  days  when  Jack  stepped  down  the 
street  in  his  midshipman's  uniform,  free  and  careless.  He  was 
light  of  step  because  of  the  joy  of  returning  home,  yet  he  was 
still  somewhat  dizzy  and  weak.  However,  he  had  a  shilling  to 
pay  for  supper,  and  he  had  but  twenty  miles  to  walk,  or  there- 
abouts— a  short  distance  for  those  who  are  strong  and  well,  but 
a  long  journey  to  be  done  on  foot  by  a  man  with  an  open  wound 
on  his  forehead,  and  half  starved  to  boot,  so  that  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  did  not  reach  Deptford  till  noon  next  day. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN.  103 

The  next  day  was  Sunday. 

At  half-past  twelve  the  Vicar  of  St.  Paul's  finished  a  most 
learned  discourse  upon  certain  philosophical  systems  of  the 
Phoenicians,  the  Chaldaeans,  the  Greeks,  and  the  Egyptians,  de- 
ducing Christian  truths,  by  the  method  known  as  analogy,  from 
each.  Castilla,  I  remember,  sat  with  folded  hands,  and  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  preacher,  as  if  she  understood  every  word.  And 
the  admiral  slept.  The  poorer  part  of  the  congregation  be- 
haved after  their  kind  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  men  slept,  the  wom- 
en sat  perfectly  still,  and  the  boys  fidgeted.  When  one  be- 
came too  noisy,  he  was  taken  out  by  the  beadle  and  caned  in 
the  churchyard  among  the  tombs,  the  other  boys  all  listening, 
and  counting  the  strokes,  as  if  the  number  administered  was  in 
itself  a  fine  lesson.  (The  same  thing  may  be  observed  both  in 
the  army  and  navy.)  When  1  read  that  the  Papists  attach  a 
particular  merit  to  mere  attendance  or  presence  during  the  per- 
formance of  their  mass,  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  same  in- 
dulgence might  be  extended  to  our  poor  ignorant  rustics  and 
servants  for  their  patient  attendance  at  the  sermons  of  which 
they  understand  nothing. 

When  the  morning  service  was  ended,  the  vicar  came  down 
from  the  pulpit  and  walked  into  the  vestry,  preceded  by  the 
beadle  carrying  his  stick  of  office,  and  followed  by  the  clerk. 
Then  the  people  all  stood  up  in  respect  to  the  quality,  who  led 
the  way  out  of  the  church.  First  there  walked  down  the  aisle 
the  admiral,  his  wig  that  morning  combed,  curled,  and  pow- 
dered, and  with  him  his  lady  in  hoop  and  satin,  and  his  daugh- 
ter Castilla  in  hoop  and  sarsnet,  very  beautiful  to  behold.  Af- 
ter them  came  Mr.  Pett,  the  shipbuilder,  with  his  wife  and  family ; 
Mr.  Underbill,  the  retired  purser,  who  was  a  bachelor ;  Mr.  Mos- 
tyn,  the  Cocket-writer  of  the  Customs ;  Mr.  Shelvocke  with  his 
family,  and  others  who  lived  in  the  genteel  houses  beside  the 
bridge ;  and  with  them  I  walked  down  the  aisle,  though  only  a 
painter,  and  an  apprentice  at  that.  When  we  had  passed  down 
the  aisle,  and  conversed  for  a  few  minutes,  standing  on  the 
great  stone  terrace  which  makes  St.  Paul's  Church  so  stately, 
we  separated,  some  taking  the  pathway  through  the  churchyard 
to  the  right  into  Church  Lane,  and  others  to  the  left  into 
Bridge  Street.  I  walked  beside  Castilla,  who  carried  her  Book 
of  Common  Prayer  and  was  silent,  doubtless  meditating  on  the 


104  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY   WELL  THEN. 

spiritual  truths  of  the  vicar's  sermon.  Behind  us  came  three 
out  of  the  admiral's  four  negroes,  and  Philadelphy,  splendid  in 
her  red  silk  handkerchief  and  a  blue  speckled  frock.  And 
after  us  came  the  common  sort,  flocking  out  together,  the 
boys,  for  their  part,  glad  that  the  sermon  was  finished,  and 
all  of  them  longing  for  the  Sunday's  beef  and  pudding.  The 
poor  do  certainly  exercise  the  virtue  of  patience  more  than  the 
rich,  especially  at  a  sermon,  of  which,  when  a  learned  divine  like 
my  father  preaches  it,  they  can  understand  not  one  word.  So 
that  one  may  forgive  them  for  the  unrestrained  joy  which,  on 
every  Sunday,  the  faces  in  the  side  aisles  manifest  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  discourse,  not  only  of  the  boys  and  girls,  but  of 
the  grown-up  people  as  well.  Among  those  who  followed  after 
the  better  sort  were  Mr.  "Westmoreland,  the  penman,  and  his 
daughter — he  bent  and  feeble,  round-shouldered  and  meek,  lean- 
ing on  his  stick,  and  by  his  side  Bess,  tall  and  upright  as  a 
lance,  dressed  somewhat  finer  than  those  of  her  condition  are 
wont  to  go,  and  holding  her  head  in  the  air  as  if  she  were  a 
queen.  Strange  that  her  father  should  be  so  meek  and  hum- 
ble, and  that  no  learning  of  the  catechism  could  teach  Bess 
meekness  or  humility.  There  is,  I  now  understand,  a  certain 
quality  in  beauty  which  prevents  its  owner  from  lowliness, 
however  humble  be  her  station.  The  young  fellows  looked 
after  Bess  as  she  came  forth  from  the  church ;  but  she  regard- 
ed them  with  proud  eyes,  and  passed  on  disdainful,  as  if  she 
were  too  high  and  good  for  any  of  them.  Therefore  they  fol- 
lowed after  the  other  girls,  who  were  as  willing  as  Bess  was 
proud,  and  perhaps,  in  these  honest  fellows'  eyes,  not  much 
less  beautiful. 

Just  opposite  the  churchyard  gate,  close  to  the  principal  en- 
trance of  Trinity  Hospital,  we  observed,  as  we  passed  into 
Church  Lane  and  turned  to  the  right,  a  fellow  leaning  against 
the  posts.  He  was  tall  and  big-lirnbed,  but  thin  and  wasted,  as 
if  he  had  been  suffering  from  some  disease  or  dreadful  priva- 
tions. One  could  very  well  see  that  he  was  a  sailor,  though  in 
his  dress,  such  as  it  was,  there  was  little  to  show  it.  He  wore 
a  common  sailor's  petticoat  or  slops ;  he  had  a  ragged  waist- 
coat, buttoned  up  to  the  neck,  because  he  had  neither  shirt  nor 
cravat ;  he  was  bareheaded  and  barefooted ;  his  hair  was  long 
and  matted ;  round  his  forehead  was  tied  a  dirty  clout  or  hand- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY   WELL    THEN.  105 

kerchief,  red  with  streaks  of  blood,  so  that  he  seemed  to  have 
but  one  eye. 

As  we  came  out  of  the  churchyard  I  caught  sight  of  him,  and 
thought  naturally  how  he  would  look  if  he  were  drawn  just  so 
in  those  rags,  and  put  into  a  picture,  making  one  of  a  group. 
And  I  saw,  but  suspected  nothing — how  could  we  be  all  so 
foolish  and  blind  as  not  to  see,  with  half  an  eye,  who  it  was  ? — 
how  he  started  when  we  came  forth  from  the  churchyard,  and 
made  as  if  he  would  move  towards  us,  perhaps  to  beg,  but 
checked  himself,  and  waited  where  he  was. 

But  the  admiral  stopped,  and  surveyed  him  leisurely  from 
head  to  foot.  Then  he  lugged  out  his  purse  and  found  a  shil- 
ling, which  he  bestowed  upon  the  man. 

"  My  lad,"  he  said,  "  thou  art  a  sailor,  and  thou  hast  fallen 
among  thieves,  belike.  I  will  not  ask  where  thy  wound  was 
gotten,  nor  in  what  company ;  nor  how  thou  art  in  such  ragged 
plight.  Take  this  money.  Go  into  dock  and  refit.  When 
this  is  spent,  come  to  me  for  another.  And  when  all  is  well 
again,  volunteer  and  serve  the  king,  and  so  keep  out  of  mis- 
chief." 

He  shook  his  gold  stick  with  admonition,  and  stumped 
away.  But  the  man  took  the  coin  and  held  it  in  his  hand, 
without  saying  a  word  of  thanks,  I  still  watching  him  in  my 
foolish  way,  because  so  picturesque  a  rogue  had  I  never  seen, 
most  of  our  ragged  vagabonds  spoiling  their  beauty,  so  to  speak, 
by  going  in  an  old  wig  torn  in  half,  burned,  uncombed,  and 
dirty,  that  hath,  perhaps,  been  used  by  a  shoeblack  to  rub  the 
shoes  in  his  trade.  There  is  no  picturesqueness  possible  in  an 
old  wig.  Yet  I  was  not  so  stupid  but  I  saw  in  the  man's  eye  a 
look  which  was  both  wistful  and  sorrowful,  though  I  did  not 
then  interpret  it  in  that  manner. 

So  the  admiral  went  on,  followed  by  his  good  lady,  who  held 
her  skirts  in  her  hand,  and  stared  at  the  man  in  her  turn,  as 
ladies  sometimes  look  at  such  poor  wretches — namely,  as  if 
they  were  of  a  different  clay,  and  had  another  kind  of  Adam 
for  their  father.  But  one  must  not  expect  a  gentlewoman  such 
as  the  admiral's  lady  (she  was  by  birth  distantly  connected 
with  the  Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of  Bute,  and  a  Scotswoman) 
to  understand  how,  beneath  the  most  rugged  exterior,  there  may 
be  found  admirable  qualities  of  courage  and  fidelity.  So  she 


106  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

gazed  upon  him,  turned  her  head,  and  went  her  way  after  the 
admiral.  After  her  came  Castilla.  "  Poor  man  !"  she  said,  in 
her  sweet  way,  "  I  would  I  had  some  money  to  give  thee ;  but 
I  have  none.  Truly  thou  art  to  be  pitied.  I  wish  thee  better 
fortune  and  a  ship." 

She  had  been  taught  by  her  father,  and  fully  believed  it,  that 
the  only  place  where  these  rough  tarpaulins  were  happy  and 
out  of  mischief  was  on  board  ship.  Seeing  that  they  are  so 
often  drunk  and  fighting  and  in  trouble  on  shore,  perhaps  she 
was  right.  But  then  ashore  there  is  no  bo's'n,  and  there  is  no 
cat-o'-nine-tails,  save  for  pickpockets.  So  she  looked  at  him 
compassionately,  and  he  moved  his  lips  as  if  he  would  have 
spoken,  but  did  not.  And  so  she  passed  on  her  way. 

Then  came  I  myself.  I  said  nothing,  but  he  looked  at  me 
with  a  kind  of  sorrowful  wonder.  I  remembered  directly  after- 
wards what  that  eye  of  his  said  as  plain  as  it  could  speak ;  but 
at  the  moment  I  was  deaf  to  its  voice,  and  blind  and  stupid, 
thinking  only  of  a  bundle  of  rags  on  a  tall  figure,  and  how  the 
man  and  the  rags  would  look  in  a  picture.  After  ourselves 
came  the  negroes  and  Philadelphy.  The  men  rolled  their  eyes 
at  this  poor  fellow  with  the  contempt  that  a  fat  and  well-fed 
negro  always  feels,  forgetful  of  his  skin,  for  a  starving  white 
man,  and  if  their  master  had  been  out  of  hearing  they  would 
have  laughed  aloud,  and  even  rolled  on  the  ground,  in  the  en- 
joyment of  his  suffering.  Nothing  makes  a  negro  laugh  more 
joyfully  than  to  see  somebody  hurt.  That  is,  perhaps,  why 
some  of  their  kings  celebrate  their  most  joyful  festivals  with 
horrid  murders  and  rivers  of  blood.  Philadelphy  followed  her 
young  mistress,  and  had  no  eyes  for  any  one  else,  being,  though 
a  witch  and  a  sorceress,  and  an  Obeah  woman,  faithful  to  Miss 
Castilla. 

When  we  had  passed,  the  vicar  came  out  of  the  vestry,  and 
so  into  Church  Lane. 

"Why,  my  friend,"  he  said,  stopping  to  contemplate  the 
scarecrow,  "where  hast  thou  gotten  these  rags  and  this 
wound  ?" 

"  I  have  escaped,  sir,  from  a  French  prison,  and  have  received 
a  hurt  on  the  forehead." 

Something  in  his  manner  touched  the  vicar. 

"  Are  you  a  common  sailor  ?"  he  asked. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  107 

"  Do  I  look  like  aught  else,  sir  ?  Heard  one  ever  of  an  officer 
in  such  rags  as  mine  ?" 

"Yet  you  speak  like  an  educated  man.  And  your  voice 
seems  familiar  to  me.  Follow  me  to  the  vicarage,  my  poor 
man,  where  you  shall  have  a  plate  of  victuals  and  a  tankard  of 
ale,  and  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  to  replace  some  of  these 
rags,  which  are  not  proper  for  a  Christian  man  and  an  honest 
man  to  wear." 

"  How  doth  your  reverence  know  that  I  am  an  honest  man  ?" 

"  Nay,  that  I  know  not,  and  there  are  many  rogues  abroad. 
But  it  is  not  for  me — God  forbid ! — to  attempt  to  separate  the 
sheep  from  the  goats.  Therefore,  sheep  or  goat,  follow  me  and 
be  welcome,  in  the  name  of  our  Saviour." 

The  vicar  left  him,  and  he  turned  and  would  have  followed, 
but  for  one  thing. 

We  who  were  a  few  yards  in  advance,  unthinking  and  unsus- 
pecting, heard  a  cry  which  stopped  the  very  beating  of  our 
hearts. 

The  cry  was  from  Bess  Westmoreland. 

She  too  saw  the  ragged  sailor  when  she  passed  through  the 
churchyard  gate.  But  she  did  not,  like  the  rest  of  us,  pass  on 
and  think  no  more.  She  suddenly  broke  from  her  father, 
pushed  the  crowd  away  to  right  and  left,  and  fell  on  her  knees 
upon  the  muddy  ground,  catching  the  man  by  both  hands,  like 
a  mad  thing,  and  crying : 

"  Oh,  Jack  !  Jack !  Jack !  He  is  home  again  !  Jack  Easter- 
brook  has  come  home  again !" 

Then,  as  we  crowded  round,  we  saw  the  tears  run  down  his 
face.  It  was  the  first  time  and  the  last  that  ever  any  man  saw 
Jack  weep ;  yet  he  had  plenty  to  cry  for,  both  before  this  and 
after.  He  caught  the  girl  by  both  hands,  and  bent  over  her, 
saying,  as  we  all  heard : 

"  Oh,  Bess,  Bess,  none  of  them  remembered  me — not  even 
Luke ;  none  of  them  thought  of  me !  But  you  remembered 
me,  Bess !  Oh,  Bess !  you  remembered  me  !" 


108  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  "  COUNTESS  OF  DORSET." 

THEN  we  all  crowded  round  him,  shaking  his  hand  and  re- 
joicing ;  and  the  admiral  first  swore  at  Jack  for  playing  a  trick 
upon  us  (but,  alas !  it  proved  to  be  no  trick),  and  then  at 
himself  for  his  stupidity,  and  then  could  say  nothing  for  the 
tears  which  drowned  his  voice  and  ran  down  his  cheeks.  And 
Jack  declared  first  that  he  would  never  part  with  the  admiral's 
shilling,  and  next  that  he  would  not  put  off  his  rags  until  he 
had  first  eaten  the  vicar's  plate  of  victuals  and  drank  his  tankard. 
This  he  did :  and  the  vicar  said  grace  solemnly,  with  thanks  for 
the  safe  return  of  the  long-lost  sailor ;  and  we  all  flocked  round 
him  to  see  him  eat  and  drink.  A  pretty  sight  it  was,  for  he 
had  not  tasted  honest  roast  beef  for  six  long  years.  Then, 
though  it  was  Sunday,  nothing  would  do  but  they  must  ring 
the  church  bells,  as  if  they  would  bring  down  the  tower  about 
their  heads.  And  Mr.  Brinjes  came  running  in  shirt  sleeves, 
waistcoat,  and  nightcap,  just  as  he  left  his  shop,  the  lancet  still 
in  his  hand  with  which  he  had  been  bleeding  people  all  the 
morning. 

Thus  we  carried  home  our  poor  ragged  prodigal.  After  the 
first  confusion  was  over,  I  looked  for  Bess,  but  she  had  slipped 
away,  unheeded. 

Then  came  the  barber,  and  cut  off  his  frightful  beard, 
trimmed  and  powdered  his  hair,  and  tied  it  behind  with  black 
ribbon,  so  that  he  looked  now  like  a  Christian.  More  suitable 
clothes  were  found  for  him,  and  as  for  his  wound,  Mr.  Brinjes 
dressed  it  for  him,  and  covered  it  with  plaster,  telling  him  that 
it  was  an  ugly  gash,  but  in  a  few  days  would  be  healed,  save 
for  the  scar  across  his  forehead,  a  thing  which  no  sailor  heeds ; 
and  then  he  stood  before  us,  a  proper  and  handsome  fellow  in- 
deed. He  had  left  us  a  lad,  and  he  came  back  to  us  a  man, 
over  six  feet  in  height,  and  with  broad  shoulders  and  stout  legs 


He  caught  the  girl  by  both  hands,  and  bent  over  far." 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          109 

to  match.  His  cheeks,  'tis  true,  were  somewhat  hollow  and 
pale,  because  he  had  been  on  short  commons  for  four  years,  as 
you  will  presently  learn. 

Now  you  will  believe  that  we  were  eager  to  know  what  had 
befallen  him ;  but  we  could  at  first  get  little  talk  with  him,  for 
all  that  afternoon  there  came  to  the  house  people  of  every  kind, 
anxious  to  see  and  converse  with  this  young  hero,  who  had,  it 
was  reported  in  the  town,  escaped  from  the  French  after  six 
years  of  captivity.  The  Church  service  in  both  churches  was, 
that  afternoon,  read  to  empty  pews,  because  all  the  worshippers 
were  in  the  admiral's  garden.  Among  them  came  the  widows 
of  those  Deptford  men  who  had  sailed  with  Jack  in  the  Countess 
of  Dorset ;  many  of  them  had  long  before  this  married  again, 
and  all  were  anxious  to  hear  of  their  late  husbands,  inquiring 
particularly  into  the  circumstances  of  their  death,  and  appearing 
to  find  consolation  in  considering  the  dreadful  nature  of  their 
sufferings.  There  came  all  Jack's  former  friends,  who  had  not 
forgotten  him,  such  as  almsmen  from  Trinity  Hospital,  and 
pensioners  from  Greenwich;  old  sailors  from  Deptford  and 
Rotherhithe,  and  even  shipwrights  and  dock-yard  carpenters. 
Mr.  Westmoreland  came,  but  without  his  daughter ;  and  even, 
though  this  seems  incredible,  some  of  the  Thames  watermen, 
who  had  the  grace  to  remember  Jack  Easterbrook.  All  the 
afternoon  Cudjoe  and  Snowball,  who  ought  to  have  been  at 
church,  trudged  about  with  foaming  tankards  and  mugs,  giving 
everybody  who  desired  an  honest  glass  to  drink  the  lieutenant's 
health  (he  was  still  only  a  midshipman,  but  they  gave  him  pro- 
motion). And  there  were  a  thousand  questions  asked  one  after 
the  other,  so  that  long  before  the  evening,  when  we  were  to 
have  an  account  of  the  voyage,  we  knew  pretty  well  what  had 
happened.  And,  thdugh  it  was  Sunday,  there  was  brewed  a 
great  bowl  of  punch  for  the  evening ;  and  in  the  end  the  ad- 
miral was  carried  to  bed,  and  many  of  the  guests  retired  with 
a  rolling  gait  and  thick  voice  ;  while  as  for  me,  the  next  morn- 
ing showed,  by  trembling  fingers  and  headache,  besides  the 
memory  of  uncertain  steps,  that  I,  too,  had  rejoiced  among  the 
rest  beyond  the  limits  of  soberness.  Among  the  company  were, 
first,  my  father,  the  Vicar  of  St.  Paul's  ;  then  Captain  Petherick, 
the  commissioner  of  the  king's  yard;  Mr.  Stephen  Pett,  who 
hath  a  ship-building  yard  of  his  own,  where  many  fair  vessels 


110  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

have  been  built;  Mr.  Mostyn,  cocket  writer  in  his  majesty's 
custom-house;  Lieutenant  Hepworth,  formerly  of  General 
Powlett's  regiment  of  marines ;  Mr.  Underbill ;  Mr.  Shelvocke 
(the  younger),  who  had  himself  been  round  the  world  in  the 
year  1720,  as  everybody  knows  who  has  read  the  account  of  his 
father's  voyage,  and  the  malicious  book  concerning  the  same 
voyage  written  by  Mr.  Betagh,  his  captain  of  marines.  There 
was  also  Mr.  Brinjes.  And  I,  for  one,  presently  observed  with 
pride  that  we  had  here  assembled  together  in  one  room — a 
thing  which  could  hardly  be  compassed  in  any  other  town,  ex- 
cept Portsmouth,  Plymouth,  and  Chatham — three  men  who  had 
at  three  separate  times  sailed  upon  the  great  unknown  Pacific ; 
and  of  these  two  had  actually  circumnavigated  the  globe. 

I  have  observed,  having  been  born  and  brought  up  among 
men  who  delight  in  telling  and  hearing  stories  of  battle,  escapes, 
shipwrecks,  and  the  like,  that  the  hero  of  a  hundred  adventures 
is  seldom  as  ready  to  tell  them  as  he  who  hath  in  all  his  life 
experienced  but  one ;  and  that,  often  enough,  not  of  his  own 
seeking,  but  against  his  own  desire,  and  even  entered  upon  in 
bodily  fear.  Yet  Virgil  makes  JEneas  relate  his  wanderings 
movingly  and  in  the  finest  verse ;  and  Shakespeare  tells  how 
Othello  would,  in  the  hearing  of  Desdemona,  fight  his  battles 
over  again.  As  for  Jack,  he  had  encountered  so  many  perils, 
and  met  with  so  many  adventures,  and  those  of  so  extraordinary 
a  kind,  that  one  would  not  expect  the  hundredth  part  of  them 
to  be  told  in  one  evening.  There  were  enough  to  fill  a  dozen 
books  of  travel,  such  as  are  generally  written,  most  of  them 
with  no  adventures  more  terrible  than  the  upsetting  of  a  coach 
or  the  appearance  of  a  footpad ;  nay,  I  have  never  seen  any 
books  which  contained  such  wonders  as  Jack  had  witnessed,  if 
we  except  the  voyages  of  Captain  Clipperton,  Captain  Shelvocke, 
and  Commodore  Anson  ;  and  none  of  these  commanders  ever 
sailed  among  the  islands  which  the  Countess  of  Dorset  visited. 
Yet  he  was  not  able,  at  first,  to  tell  us  much  about  them  ;  and 
it  was  only  by  continual  questioning  and  persuading  him  to 
talk,  with  the  map  lying  open  before  him,  that  we  could  get 
him  to  unburden  his  mind  of  some  of  the  things  he  had  seen  and 
undergone.  Some  men — of  whom  Jack  was  one — are  so  con- 
stituted that  they  do  not  seem  to  understand  what  people  want 
to  know,  or  what  they  should  tell  them.  Our  hero  was  not 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEX.          Ill 

reticent,  I  am  sure,  from  any  fear  of  appearing  boastful,  because 
sailors  love,  above  all  things,  to  speak  of  their  own  adventures ; 
but  because,  first,  he  felt,  on  this  the  first  day  of  his  return,  new 
and  strange  to  us,  after  six  years  of  absence  ;  and  next,  he  was 
never  good  at  narrating,  save  stories  of  fight ;  and  further,  it  is 
not  easy  for  any  one  to  gather  up  immediately,  and  at  short 
notice,  all  the  recollections  of  the  past  six  years.  When  a  man 
has  been  two  years  with  savages,  or  two  years  in  a  Spanish  or 
French  prison,  he  is  apt  to  forget  some  of  the  things  which 
happened  before,  even  though  they  passed  among  the  unknown 
islands  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

"  As  for  her  course,  now,"  he  began,  doubtfully.  He  had  be- 
fore him  the  map  of  the  world,  on  Mercator's  projection,  by 
John  Senex.  It  was  my  father's  copy,  and  although  the  map  is 
not  on  so  large  a  scale  as  a  ship's  chart,  yet  it  was  big  enough 
to  serve.  Deptford  is  too  insignificant  to  be  marked,  and  Jack's 
finger,  when  he  would  indicate  the  ship's  starting-point,  covered 
the  whole  of  Kent,  Middlesex,  Essex,  and  Surrey.  "  As  for  her 
course,  now,"  he  repeated,  looking  at  the  map  doubtfully,  con- 
sidering how  best  to  begin.  Perhaps  he  had  forgotten  how  to 
use  a  map,  since  he  had  not  seen  one  for  four  years.  Castilla 
was  standing  on  one  side,  looking  over  his  shoulder,  I  at  the 
other  side.  The  admiral  sat  opposite,  his  red  face  filled  with 
benevolence  and  affection.  Surely  there  never  was  a  kindlier 
face  in  the  world.  Behind  him  and  beside  the  fireplace  was  his 
lady,  not  carried  away  so  greatly  by  the  general  emotion,  partly 
because  she  never  entertained  the  same  love  for  Jack  that  filled 
her  husband's  breast,  and  partly  because,  like  most  women,  she 
was  not  in  the  least  degree  interested  in  foreign  lands  and  sav- 
age races,  and  partly  because  she  knew  not  the  bottom  of  a  map 
from  the  top.  The  gentlemen  sat  round  the  table  as  they 
chose,  and  at  the  sideboard  the  two  negroes  had  charge  of  the 
smoking  bowl.  I  love  negroes  for  one  thing :  that  is,  for  their 
fellow-feeling  when  any  occasion  for  rejoicing  and  feasting 
arises.  They  would  like  the  whole  of  their  lives  to  be  spent  in 
feasting,  drinking,  and  laughing.  For  instance,  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  these  two  rascals  had  given  one  single  thought  to 
Jack  during  the  whole  of  his  six  years'  absence,  yet  here  they 
were,  their  mouths  broad-grinning,  their  faces  shining,  their 
eyes  twinkling  and  dancing,  moving  nimbly  about  with  the 


112  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

glasses,  taking  care,  with  the  greatest  zeal,  that  the  admiral's  was 
kept  always  full,  and  that  none  of  the  gentlemen  should  be  al- 
lowed so  much  as  to  glance  inquiringly  in  the  direction  of  the 
bowl.  Had  it  been  the  return  of  their  own  son  they  could  not 
have  shown  a  livelier  joy.  N.B. — Later  in  the  evening,  when 
the  admiral  was  in  bed  and  the  guests  gone,  they  finished  the 
bowl  themselves ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  Jack,  who  in  the 
morning  was  so  good  as  to  pump  upon  them,  they  certainly 
would  have  incurred  the  wrath  of  the  admiral,  for  they  were, 
even  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  after  a  night's  sleep, 
still  more  than  half  seas  over. 

"  Oh,  Jack,"  said  Castilla,  "  to  think  that  you  should  remem- 
ber her  course  after  all  these  years !" 

"  Easy  a  bit,  my  lad,"  said  the  admiral.  "  Take  another  glass 
before  we  begin.  Gentlemen,  fill  up.  Fill  up  the  gentlemen's 
glasses,  ye  black  rogues  !  This  is  a  joyful  evening — an  evening 
out  of  ten  thousand.  And  to  think  that  none  of  us  knew  him 
except  Bess,  the  penman's  girl !  Castilla,  my  dear  where  were 
your  eyes  ?" 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  was  thinking  of  the  vicar's  discourse,  else  I 
am  sure  I  should  have  known  Jack." 

"  And  where  were  yours,  Luke  ?  and  where  were  mine  ? — to 
treat  him  like  a  ragamuffin  tarpaulin !  Well,  well !  Fill  up 
Mr.  Jack's  glass,  Snowball.  Drink,  my  lad ;  Castilla  loves  a 
sailor  who  can  take  his  whack.  Drink  her  health  as  I  drink 
thine,  dear  lad." 

Castilla  laughed.  She  loved  soberness  and  temperance  ;  but 
Jack  did  not  come  home  every  day. 

"  As  for  her  course,  now,"  said  the  admiral. 

"  We  sailed  from  Deptford — " 

"  You  did,  my  boy,  and  I  well  remember  the  day,  six  years 
ago,  when  the  Countess  of  Dorset  dipped  her  ensign  and  fired 
her  salute.  The  boy  tells  me,  gentlemen,  that  for  four  years  he 
has  never  tasted  punch — poor  lad !  nor  quaffed  a  tankard  of 
ale — think  of  it !  nor  sat  down  to  a  comfortable  pipe  of  tobacco  ; 
nor  known  the  comforts  of  a  hammock  in  a  seaworthy  and 
weather-tight  vessel.  For  four  years !  Your  reverence,  it  is 
Sunday  evening ;  but  with  respect  to  the  cloth  " — the  admiral 
turned  his  face,  rosy  and  beaming  as  the  setting  sun,  to  my 
father — "  when  the  prodigal  son  came  home,  did  his  father 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          113 

ask  the  chaplain,  who,  I  suppose  was  a  Levite,  whether  it  was 
the  Sabbath  Day  before  he  ordered  the  fatted  calf  to  be  killed 
and  roasted  2" 

"  We  do  not  learn  that  he  did  so,"  replied  my  father. 
"  Though,  doubtless—" 

"  Then,  sir,  suffer  us  to  believe,  for  our  satisfaction  at  the 
present  juncture,  that  the  event,  like  another  one  of  later  oc- 
currence, happened  on  the  Sabbath  Day.  Then  have  we  author- 
ity of  Holy  Writ  for  making  merry  on  the  Sabbath  Day." 

At  this  display  of  wit  they  all  laughed,  without  rebuke  from 
the  vicar. 

"  Go  on,  Jack ;  go  on,  my  lad.  I  must  still  be  talking,  when 
it  is  Jack  we  want  to  hear.  Your  health,  my  lad,  your  health. 
I  never  thought  to  see  thy  honest  phiz  again.  Thy  hand  again, 
Jack.  This  is  a  joyful  evening,  gentlemen.  Damme,  I  say 
again,  a  joyful  evening."  Yet  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

We  were  all  moved,  and  the  admiral  more  than  any.  But 
Mr.  Brinjes  sat  in  his  place,  his  one  eye,  like  a  ball  of  fire,  fixed 
on  Jack.  I  knew  that  he  was  recalling  his  own  voyage  in  the 
southern  seas,  and  thinking  of  his  treasure.  It  was  as  if  some 
scent  or  fragrance  of  the  islands  which  he  loved  to  talk  about 
was  clinging  to  Jack. 

Then  our  returned  prodigal  went  on  with  his  narrative,  and 
if  the  interruptions  of  the  admiral  are  not  set  down,  with  his 
ejaculations  and  oaths,  it  is  because,  were  everything  to  be  told, 
no  history  would  ever  come  to  an  end.  Wherefore  they  are 
omitted ;  nor  have  I  tried  to  set  down  all  that  Jack  said,  nor  a 
tenth  part,  on  this  evening,  because  half  the  time  he  was  an- 
swering questions  from  Mr.  Shelvocke,  who  must  needs  show 
his  knowledge  of  those  seas,  and  from  Mr.  Brinjes,  who  had 
also  sailed  upon  them,  and  from  Captain  Pethcrick,  who  was  a 
great  lover  of  geography.  I  have  also  ventured  to  omit  that 
part  of  his  narrative  which  related  to  the  behavior  of  the  crew, 
the  sailing  qualities  of  the  ship,  and  those  matters  generally 
which  concern  sailors  and  which  would  only  be  understood  by 
them.  "  We  sailed,  as  you  remember,  admiral,  carrying  with 
us  twenty-five  guns,  with  a  crew  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
men  all  told,  and  provisions  for  twenty-four  months.  Gentle- 
men, with  submission,  I  venture  to  remark  that  no  navy  pro- 
vision exists  which  will  last  twenty-four  months,  for  the  biscuit 


114  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

becomes  weevilly,  and  the  pork  and  beef  rancid ;  and  as  to  the 
cheese  and  the  salt  butter —  But  there  !" 

"  He  is  right,"  said  Mr.  Underbill. 

"  We  were  fortunate,  however,  and  fell  in,  before  we  suf- 
fered much  from  this  cause,  with  provisions  of  another  kind. 
The  last  land  that  we  saw  was  the  Start,  and  the  next  was 
Cape  Finisterre.  We  then  stood  away  for  the  Island  of  Tene- 
riffe,  where  we  designed  to  take  in  wine,  rum,  and  brandy,  the 
captain  •  being  of  opinion  that  to  keep  a  merry  heart  in  the 
crew — which  is  above  all  things  desirable  on  a  long  voyage — a 
double  ration  is  often  necessary ;  wherefore  we  laid  in  at  the 
town  of  Santa  Cruz  a  great  store  of  malmsey,  canary,  and  ver- 
dina,  which  is  a  greenish-colored  wine  and  strong  bodied,  but 
keeps  well  in  hot  climates. 

"  After  leaving  Teneriffe  we  were  becalmed  for  three  weeks ; 
during  which,  I  remember,  we  caught  two  very  fine  sharks,  off 
which  the  men  regaled.  Then  we  touched  at  St.  Helena.  Af- 
ter this  we  were  driven  off  our  course  by  the  trade-wind,  and 
sighted  Tristan  d'Acunha;  we  put  in  at  the  Cape,  and  after 
leaving  Algoa  Bay  we  steered  nor'-nor'east,  passing  the  south- 
ern point  of  Madagascar,  where  we  expected  to  meet  with 
pirates." 

"  I  fear  they  are  all  dead,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  Their  settle- 
ment was  on  the  northeast  coast,  which  is  not  so  full  of  fever 
as  the  southwest.  Dead  now  they  must  be,  every  man.  And 
I  doubt  if  their  children,  darkies  all,  would  have  the  spirit  to 
carry  on  the  business." 

"  Our  course  was  now  to  the  coast  of  New  Holland,  the  ob- 
ject of  the  voyage  being,  as  the  captain  told  us,  to  discover 
new  lands,  and,  if  possible,  countries  where  British  settlements 
might  rival  those  of  Spain  in  the  Manillas  and  the  Ladrones." 

"  You  did  not  visit  the  Manillas,  then  ?"  said  Mr.  Shelvocke. 
"  There  is  nothing  in  those  seas  which  can  surpass  the  Manil- 
las in  beauty  and  fertility." 

"  The  pope,"  said  my  father,  "  pretended,  in  his  pride,  to 
confer  upon  the  Spaniards  all  the  lands  beyond  the  Atlantic, 
including,  I  suppose,  Magellanica,  or  the  Pacific  Ocean,  which 
was  not  then  discovered." 

"  We  had  bad  weather  crossing  this  great  ocean,  whereon  we 
sailed  for  two  months,  or  thereabout,  with  never  a  sight  of 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  115 

land.  Then  we  began  to  find  seaweed,  with  cuttle-bones  and 
bonitos,  and  after  two  or  three  days  we  sighted  land ;  but, 
finding  nothing  except  rocks  and  foul  ground,  we  stood  off 
again." 

His  finger  was  now  on  the  coast  of  the  great  unknown  south- 
ern island  called  New  Holland.  "  On  the  third  or  fourth  day 
we  found  an  opening  in  the  land,  and  anchored  in  two  fath- 
oms and  a  half  of  water.  We  called  the  place  Shark's  Bay, 
and  we  stayed  here  a  week.  The  shore  is  shelving  to  the  sea, 
and  we  saw  there  a  kind  of  animal  like  the  West  Indian  mac- 
caroon,  save  that  it  has  long  hind-legs,  on  which  it  jumps; 
and  I  think  it  was  there  that  we  found  an  ugly  kind  of  guana, 
which  stinks.  The  natives  were  naked  black  men,  some  of 
them  painted  with  a  kind  of  pigment,  and  their  hair  frizzled. 
They  seem  to  live  on  shell-fish,  and  carry  lances  with  heads  of 
flint." 

"  I  had  hoped,"  said  my  father,  "  to  hear  of  some  polite  and 
civilized  nation,  with  arts  and  sciences,  and  traditions  of  the 
patriarchal  religion,  and  of  gentle  manners." 

"Their  manners,"  Jack  continued,  "are  beastly,  and  their 
ways  are  treacherous ;  and  as  for  religion,  we  saw  no  sign  of 
any.  How  can  savages  have  any  religion  who  live  on  mussels  ? 
I  have  lived  on  them  myself,  and  felt  no  promptings  of  relig- 
ion all  the  time,  but  only  discontent  and  swearing.  Well,  gen- 
tlemen, we  continued  our  voyage,  and  I  dare  say  we  carried 
the  coast-line  a  good  bit  farther  than  this  map  shows ;  but  my 
memory  serves  me  not  on  this  point,  and  my  own  as  well  as  the 
ship's  log  was  lost  when  the  ship  was  cast  away." 

"  Our  course,"  said  Mr.  Shelvocke,  "  was  north  of  these  lati- 
tudes. Wherefore  I  have  never  visited  the  shores  of  New 
Holland.  This  I  regret  the  less,  having  seen  the  Manillas." 

"  When  we  reached  the  most  southerly  point,  which,  I  dare 
say,  may  be  somewhere  near  to  the  place  on  the  map,  the  cap- 
tain called  together  his  lieutenants,  the  master  and  the  captain 
of  marines,  and  over  a  cheerful  glass  opened  his  mind  to  them, 
as  we  presently  heard  in  the  gunroom.  He  said  that  his  or- 
ders were  general,  and  that  it  was  reported  by  those  who  had 
sailed  on  those  seas,  particularly  by  those  who  thought  it  no 
sin  to  hoist  the  Jolly  Roger — " 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  stoutly,  "  provided  that  it  is 


116  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

in  Spanish  waters  only,.  I  have  myself  sailed  under  the  cross- 
bones  and  skull.  Sin  ?  Why,  it  is  a  commendable  action  to 
maul  and  harass  the  Spaniards." 

"  The  captain  said  that  it  was  reported,"  Jack  continued, 
"  that  there  are  islands  in  those  seas  of  incredible  wealth,  com- 
pared with  which  Mr.  Shelvocke's  Manillas  are  poor ;  but  that 
the  Spaniards  either  endeavor  to  keep  the  secret  of  these  isl- 
ands to  themselves,  or  they  have  not  the  curiosity  to  seek  them 
out.  His  design  was,  therefore,  to  seek  for  these  islands,  even 
though  we  might  have  to  fight  the  Spaniards  should  we  meet 
them ;  and  if  any  place  should  be  found  to  possess  the  wealth 
they  are  supposed  to  contain,  then,  Spaniard  or  no  Spaniard, 
to  plant  the  flag  of  Great  Britain  upon  them ;  and,  if  Heaven 
should  prosper  our  enterprise,  presently  to  return  by  the  Straits 
of  Magellan. 

"  So  we  steered  a  course  northeast  by  north,  across  an  open 
sea,  with  fair  winds,  sighting  no  land  at  all  until  we  were  in 
latitude  twenty  degrees  south,  or  thereabout,  when  we  came  to 
a  great  island ;  if,  indeed,  it  be  not  a  part  of  the  great  South- 
ern continent.  Gentlemen  " — Jack  broke  off  here — "  I  cannot 
tell  you  all,  nor  a  tenth  part,  of  what  we  saw  in  those  seas. 
There  are  thousands  of  islands,  all  much  finer  than  you  can 
imagine." 

"  They  are — they  are,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  I  have  seen  them 
myself." 

"  Our  own  course,"  said  Mr.  Shelvocke,  jealously,  "  was  in 
the  northern  latitude,  the  islands  of  which  are  incomparable." 

"  And  of  what  kind  are  the  people  ?" 

"  For  the  most  part  we  found  them  gentle  and  generous. 
No  travellers  have  ever  visited  these  islands  that  we  could  learn ; 
they  know  nothing  of  the  Spaniards ;  they  are  black,  and  go 
naked,  and  they  can  all  swim  like  fishes." 

"  They  can,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes, "  especially  the  young  women." 

"  Of  what  kind  is  their  religion  ?"  asked  the  vicar. 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  they  have  none  " — Mr.  Brinjes  shook  his 
head — "  at  least  we  saw  no  signs  of  any ;  though,  of  course, 
we  could  not  talk  to  them  in  their  own  language.  The  islands 
are  so  close  together  that  it  is  impossible  to  sail  more  than  a 
day  or  two  without  coming  in  sight  of  a  new  archipelago ; 
some  there  are  which  we  judged  as  big  as  Ireland,  perhaps, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  117. 

and  others  not  more  than  half  an  acre ;  some  there  are  which 
are  only  coral  reefs  lying  in  a  circle  round  smooth  water,  no 
bigger  than  some  of  the  West  Indian  keys,  and  some  there  are 
which  are  covered  with  great  mountains  and  volcanoes." 

"  It  is  true — it  is  quite  true,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes. 

"  And  as  for  the  riches  of  them  ?"  asked  one  of  the  company. 

"  I  know  not  if  there  be  any.  We  made  such  signs  as  we 
thought  would  make  them  understand  that  we  wanted  gold  and 
precious  stones ;  but  they  produced  none,  and  we  believed  that 
they  have  no  knowledge  of  gold,  even  if  there  be  gold  in  their 
mountains.  Of  pearls  there  must  needs  be  plenty,  seeing  that 
there  are  oysters  in  abundance.  But  we  saw  none." 

"  No  gold  and  no  jewels  !"  said  my  father.  "  Happy  island- 
ers!" 

"  And  they  seem  to  have  all  things  in  common." 

"  Wherefore  the  main  temptations  to  sin,"  said  my  father, 
"  are  removed.  Where  there  is  no  private  property  there  can 
be  no  robbery,  no  envying,  no  jealousies,  no  overreaching.  Oh, 
thrice-happy  people,  if  they  knew  their  own  happiness !" 

"  If  we  had  not  lost  the  log,"  Jack  continued,  "  we  should 
have  covered  these  seas  with  islands  never  before  seen,  even  by 
Dampier,  Magellan,  Drake,  or  Rogers.  Now,  no  one  knows 
where  they  are,  and  I  alone,  of  all  living  men,  unless  it  be  Mr. 
Brinjes,  have  seen  them.  As  for  our  gallant  company  " — here 
he  paused  and  looked  around  him  solemnly.  I  have  noticed 
many  sailors  do  the  same  thing ;  it  is  as  if  they  were  counting 
those  present,  to  be  sure  that  they,  too,  are  not  shipwrecked 
men — "they  are  all  dead  by  now,  I  doubt  not.  Unless  some 
escaped  of  whom  I  know  nothing,  who  may  be  living  yet  among 
the  Indians." 

"  Fill  his  glass,"  said  the  admiral.  "  Gentlemen,  let  us  drink 
to  the  memory  of  these  poor  fellows,  cast  away,  and  now  dead." 

"  There  is  no  such  sailing,"  Jack  continued,  "  anywhere  in 
the  world — " 

"  There  is  not,"  Mr.  Brinjes  interrupted. 

"  — save  for  the  constant  temptation  for  the  men  to  desert, 
and  live  in  indolence  among  those  people.  Better  would  it 
have  been,  save  for  one  who  now  sits  here  among  you  all,  had 
the  whole  ship's  company  gone  ashore  and  stayed  there,  to  live 
in  the  warm  air  and  sunshine  of  that  climate." 


118  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"Better  to  die  a  Christian  than  live  a  heathen,"  said  the 
vicar. 

"  Well,  we  had  the  Church  Service  read  every  Sunday  morn- 
ing," said  Jack,  "  which  was  no  doubt  a  comfortable  thing  for 
the  poor  fellows  to  think  upon  when  the  rocks  were  cracking 
their  skulls  like  egg-shells.  But  as  for  the  sailing,  so  long  as 
we  were  among  the  islands,  it  was  like  cruising  upon  a  pond, 
with  fresh  fruit,  and  fish  of  all  kinds,  and  wild  birds  in  plenty 
to  be  shot.  Sir  " — he  addressed  the  vicar — "  this  place  is  surely 
the  Garden  of  Eden,  though  there  is  in  Scripture  no  mention 
made  of  any  seas.  Of  this  the  captain,  who  was  a  sober  and 
religious  man,  was  well  assured." 

"  The  site  of  the  garden,"  said  my  father,  "  hath  been  placed 
in  Mesopotamia,  between  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  or  in  Ara- 
bia Felix,  or  at  the  foot  of  the  Caucasus,  or  near  Damascus, 
but  never,  that  I  know  of,  in  Magellanica  or  Oceanus  Australis. 
And  I  know  not  how  it  could  be  there,  unless  the  Euphrates 
and  the  Nile  have  greatly  changed  their  course." 

"  It  cannot  be  anything  else  but  the  Garden  of  Eden,"  said 
Jack ;  "  though,  perhaps,  in  the  Deluge  much  of  it  was  swal- 
lowed up,  and  only  the  tops  of  the  mountains  left  above  water." 

"  Should  we  ever,"  said  the  vicar,  "  find  that  garden,  which 
doubtless  exists  somewhere  upon  the  earth — nay,  some  have 
pretended  to  have  seen  it — we  shall  also  find  the  gate,  and  at 
the  gate  the  angel  with  a  flaming  sword  turning  in  every  direc- 
tion to  keep  the  way  of  the  Tree  of  Life.  But  it  may  very  well 
be  that,  when  the  curse  of  labor  was  imposed  upon  man  for 
the  sin  of  Adam — in  consequence  of  which  some  parts  of  the 
world  were  afflicted  with  aridity  and  sand,  other  parts  were 
covered  with  ice  and  snow,  others,  again,  became  marshes,  and 
others  became  hard  and  unprofitable  for  the  toilers — that  some 
parts  were  left  by  merciful  design  in  their  virginal  and  pristine 
beauty,  just  as  they  left  the  hand  of  the  Creator  at  the  dawn 
of  the  first  Sabbath,  being  reserved  for  this  generation  to  dis- 
cover, so  that  faith  might  be  strengthened,  and  true  religion 
revived  in  the  world,  by  so  striking  a  proof  of  the  divine  nar- 
rative. But  let  us  go  on,  for  the  hour  groweth  late." 

"  Alas !  gentlemen,  there  is  very  little  more  to  tell,  and  the 
rest  of  the  history  of  the  ill-fated  Countess  of  Dorset  is  all  mis- 
fortune. We  came  at  length  to  an  end  of  these  islands,  which 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  119 

we  parted  with  to  our  great  regret ;  and  so,  with  open  sea, 
steering  now  east  or  southeast,  with  design  to  make  Juan 
Fernandez  or  the  Island  of  Masafuera,  when  we  were  within 
thirty  or  forty  leagues,  according  to  our  reckoning,  of  these 
islands,  there  fell  upon  us  a  dreadful  gale,  or  succession  of 
gales,  which  lasted  a  week  or  more,  so  far  as  I  remember,  the 
ship  driving  before  the  wind  under  bare  poles.  Then  we  lost 
our  foremast,  and  presently  both  mainmast  and  mizzenmast 
went  by  the  board ;  and  for  great  waves  and  the  force  of  the 
wind  I  never  experienced  the  like.  We  rigged  a  jury-mast 
with  difficulty,  and  a  foresail  to  steady  her  head.  By  this  time 
our  bulwarks  were  broken  and  our  boats  stove  in,  so  that  there 
was  very  little  hope  left  us,  except  that  the  gale  might  abate, 
in  which  case  we  might  keep  her  afloat — for  now  she  had  sprung 
aleak,  and  the  men  were  kept  day  and  night  to  the  pump—- 
until we  could  make  some  kind  of  raft.  As  for  our  guns,  we 
heaved  them  overboard,  with  everything  else  that  would  light- 
en the  ship.  Gentlemen,  the  gale  did  not  abate ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  blew  harder,  if  that  were  possible ;  and  I  think  every- 
body on  board  had  given  up  hope.  As  for  the  men,  some  of 
them  did  their  duty  to  the  last ;  but  some,  of  them  became  mu- 
tinous, and  wanted  to  get  to  the  spirit  store,  and  go  down  hap- 
py. Which  is,  I  take  it,  a  fool's  way  of  dying." 

"  It  is,"  said  the  vicar. 

"  I  have  seen  them  die  that  way,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  Some 
men  have  even  walked  the  plank,  after  drinking  a  pint  or  so  of 
rum,  dancing  and  laughing,  and  with  the  end  of  a  song  on  their 
lips.  But,  no  doubt,  'tis  better  to  go  down  sober.  Besides, 
there  is  always  some  hope  for  a  sober  man,  but  none  for  a 
drunken  one." 

"  I  do  not  know,  gentlemen,  how  long  this  lasted.  We  un- 
shipped our  rudder,  I  remember,  which  finished  our  misfort- 
unes, for  now  the  ship  lay  like  a  log  in  the  trough  of  the  waves, 
which  rolled  her  about  as  they  pleased.  And  how  many  were 
washed  overboard  I  know  not ;  nor  how  many  were  left  in  the 
ship  when,  at  last,  she  struck  the  rocks  and  was  beaten  to  pieces. 
I  would  rather  face  a  dozen  broadsides  than  wait  again,  for  a 
week  or  more,  with  death  almost  certain  at  the  end  of  it.  To 
judge  from  the  haggard  faces  of  those  who  waited  with  me, 
and  to  remember  my  own  mind — why,  we  die  a  hundred  deaths 


120  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

in  the  mere  apprehension  and  waiting  for  it.  Most  of  us  died 
in  earnest  before  long.  For  one  morning,  when  the  daylight 
came,  we  saw  before  us  a  most  dreadful  sight,  namely,  the  coast 
of  Patagonia,  which  is  the  most  inhospitable,  I  suppose,  in  the 
world,  and  the  most  terrible,  by  reason  of  its  rocks  and  preci- 
pices. We  were  driving  right  upon  the  coast.  Then,  indeed, 
we  gave  ourselves  up  for  lost.  When  we  struck,  the  sea  lifted 
her  and  beat  her  against  the  rocks,  breaking  and  grinding  her 
timbers  as  if  she  had  been  nothing  bigger  than  a  Portsmouth 
wherry ;  and  the  waves  broke  over  her  at  the  same  time,  wash- 
ing the  men  from  the  places  where  they  were  clinging.  As  for 
me,  I  was  carried  off,  and  what  happened  to  me  afterwards  I 
know  not,  save  that  I  lost  consciousness,  and  when  I  recovered 
I  found  myself  lying  on  a  ledge  of  rock ;  but  how  I  got  there, 
whether  carried  thither  by  some  great  wave  or  upon  some  piece 
of  wreck,  I  know  not.  The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  make  sure 
that  I  had  no  bones  broken.  I  was  not,  indeed,  hurt  in  any 
way,  save  that  from  head  to  foot  I  was  covered  with  bruises, 
which  were  of  small  account.  And  then  I  turned  to  look  at 
the  wreck.  We  were  surely  landed  in  the  worst  place  in  the 
world ;  it  was  a  narrow  creek,  or  bay,  between  high  cliffs,  into 
which  the  sea  rushed  with  violence  inexpressible.  Already  the 
ship  was  broken  up,  save  for  the  afterpart,  where  there  were 
still  clinging  two  or  three  poor  wretches ;  below  my  feet,  in  the 
boiling  water,  grinding  against  each  other,  were  pieces  of  wreck, 
and,  most  terrible  to  see,  there  were  mangled  bodies  of  our  poor 
fellows,  dashed  against  the  rocks  and  among  the  broken  tim- 
bers. It  is  wonderful  to  think  that  any  of  us  escaped. 

"  At  first  I  thought  that  I  was  alone,  the  only  man  saved. 
But  there  were  others,  and  I  found  that  most  of  them,  like 
myself,  could  not  tell  how  they  had  got  ashore,  and  why  they 
were  not,  like  their  shipmates,  dashed  to  pieces.  There  were 
fourteen  of  us  in  number,  and  no  more  came  ashore ;  where- 
fore, seeing  the  violence  of  the  waves  and  the  impossibility  of 
swimming  in  such  a  sea,  we  concluded  that  the  rest  were  all 
drowned.  When  the  wind  abated,  which  was  the  next  day,  we 
managed  to  get  up  to  the  rocks  some  of  the  timber  and  wreck 
washed  ashore,  and  made  some  kind  of  shelter ;  but  we  could 
not  light  a  fire,  and  it  was  now  the  winter  season  in  these  lati- 
tudes, and  cold.  There  were  one  or  two  casks  of  provisions 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          121 

which  reached  the  shore  unbroken  and  not  touched  by  the  sea ; 
we  lived  upon  them  while  they  lasted,  our  drink  being  rain- 
water, of  which  there  was  plenty.  When  this  supply  ceased 
we  had  nothing  to  subsist  upon  at  all  but  shell-fish,  of  which 
there  were  at  first  great  quantities,  but  we  presently  exhausted 
them,  and  then  we  had  to  leave  our  hut,  such  as  it  was,  and  to 
move  on  along  the  coast  in  order  to  find  more.  We  were  all 
the  time  as  men  in  a  dream,  not  knowing  where  we  were  nor 
what  to  do ;  all  day  we  gazed  stupidly  at  each  other,  and  all 
night  we  crouched  together  for  warmth.  But  when  the  time  came 
that  we  must  leave  our  rocks  we  began  to  take  counsel.  My 
companions  were  common  sailors,  rude  and  ignorant  fellows ; 
and  as  for  me,  I  knew  nothing  except  that  I  was  certain  that 
we  must  be  somewhere  upon  the  western  shore  of  South  Amer- 
ica; that  part  of  it  which  is  called  Patagonia.  Now  if  we 
marched  south  we  should  in  time  come  to  the  Straits  of  Magel- 
lan, through  which  there  might  pass  some  ship ;  but  how  long 
we  should  wait,  or  how  great  the  distance  might  be,  we  knew 
nothing.  And  every  day's  march  would  bring  us  into  colder 
and  more  desolate  regions.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  marched 
north  we  might,  in  the  long  run,  reach  the  Spanish  settlements, 
which  are  reported  to  stretch  southward  very  far.  But,  again, 
should  we  reach  them,  it  was  most  likely  that  they  would  mur- 
der us,  or  hand  us  over  to  the  Inquisition  to  be  burned  alive 
for  heretics.  However,  we  decided  in  the  end  to  march  north, 
which  we  did,  leaving  behind  four  of  our  number  who  had  died, 
partly  of  cold  and  partly  of  flux,  brought  on  by  the  shell-fish 
diet,  which  afflicted  us  in  various  ways.  As  for  myself,  it  cov- 
ered my  whole  body  with  an  intolerable  itching,  which  flew 
from  one  part  to  another,  so  that  I  got  no  rest  day  or  night." 

"  It  is  a  prurigo,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  There  is  no  cure  for 
it  but  a  change  of  diet." 

"  We  were  by  this  time  in  as  miserable  a  plight  as  ever  be- 
fell shipwrecked  sailors,  for  the  weather  was  continually  wet 
and  cold ;  as  for  our  clothes,  they  were  rags,  wet  through  day 
and  night ;  we  were  pinched  with  hunger ;  we  had  not  a  shoe 
to  our  feet ;  there  was  not  a  single  tool  or  weapon,  not  even  a 
knife  among  us.  A  man,  gentlemen,  without  tools,  is  in  sorry 
case.  So  we  began  our  way  along  the  coast,  which  we  durst 
not  leave,  partly  for  fear  of  wild  beasts  and  natives,  and  partly 
6 


122  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

because  while  we  kept  near  the  sea  we  should  not  starve.  We 
wandered  in  this  way,  seeking  such  shelter  as  we  could  find, 
and  always  wet,  cold,  and  half  starved  for  a  month  or  two — I 
know  not  how  long.  But  one  day  we  fell  in  with  a  tribe  of 
Indians.  By  this  time,  I  remember,  there  were  only  eight  of 
us  left.  These  men  came  to  meet  us,  brandishing  spears  and 
threatening  to  kill  us ;  while  we,  for  our  part,  had  nothing  to 
do  except  to  make  signs  showing  how  helpless  and  harmless  we 
were.  So  they  took  us  with  them ;  and  I  think  I  never  spent  a 
happier  evening  than  the  first,  when  we  lay  upon  the  ground 
about  a  great  fire,  with  broiled  fish  to  eat  and  seal-skin  to  cov- 
er us.  We  had  not  been  warm  or  dry  for  a  matter  of  three 
months.  As  for  living  with  them,  we  soon  got  tired  of  that 
life,  except  two  of  our  company,  who  took  Indian  wives,  and 
resolved  to  continue  among  them.  For,  like  us,  they  lived  by 
the  sea-shore,  having  no  knowledge  of  any  agriculture,  and  de- 
voured fish  and  mussels,  oysters,  and  so  forth,  all  of  which 
were  collected  for  them  by  their  wives.  I  have  never  seen  any 
more  dexterous  than  these  poor  women  in  diving  and  catching 
fish,  which  they  would  drive,  by  frightening,  into  some  small 
creek  or  inlet  of  the  sea,  where  they  could  not  escape,  and  were 
easily  captured.  They  also  collected  and  ate  certain  berries, 
which  were  nauseous  at  first,  but  which  we  presently  grew  to 
consider  as  useful  against  the  disorders  caused  by  a  fish  diet. 
But  as  for  the  dirt  and  the  vermin,  and  the  savage  nature  of 
the  life  we  led,  I  cannot  so  much  as  speak  of  these  things. 
Sometimes  when,  by  reason  of  storm  and  gales,  fish  was  scarce, 
we  were  driven  to  live  on  the  flesh  of  seals,  and  that  putrid  and 
stinking.  And  because  we  depended  so  much  upon  the  mus- 
sels and  oysters,  we  were  obliged  continually  to  shift  our  quar- 
ters, and  slowly  drew  more  and  more  northward,  until  at  last 
we  arrived  at  the  most  southerly  of  the  Spanish  settlements, 
which  consisted  of  nothing  else  than  a  kind  of  convent  and  a 
church  with  four  priests.  For  my  own  part,  I  approached  the 
place  with  terror,  thinking  that  the  stake  would  be  set  up  and 
the  flames  would  be  consuming  us  as  soon  as  the  priests  should 
understand  that  we  were  Englishmen  and  Protestants.  Well, 
gentlemen,  they  never  so  much  as  asked  us  of  what  religion 
we  were.  But  these  good  priests — your  reverence  will  for- 
give me — " 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  123 

"There  are  charitable  hearts  in  every  country  and  in  every 
religion,"  said  the  vicar.  "  Why  not  in  Magellanica  ?" 

"  They  gave  us  clothes  to  put  on ;  they  washed  and  dressed 
our  wounds,  because  by  this  time  we  were  covered  all  over  with 
sores  and  bad  places.  They  gave  us  good  food,  and  wine  to 
drink,  and  they  heard  our  story — one  of  them  could  speak  Eng- 
lish— with  tears  and  pity.  They  told  us  that  we  must  be  sent 
to  the  nearest  Spanish  port  as  prisoners,  but  bade  us  be  of  good 
courage,  because  we  should  be  treated  well." 

"  In  those  remote  parts,"  said  the  vicar,  "  the  pope  and  the 
Inquisition  being  so  far  off,  there  is  room  for  the  growth  of  hu- 
man feelings,  even  with  priests." 

"  After  six  months  living  among  them — a  better  and  a  more 
charitable  brotherhood  I  never  hope  to  meet — there  came  an 
opportunity  of  conveying  us  to  the  Island  of  Chiloe,  where 
there  is  a  Spanish  governor.  Now  I  reckon  that  the  ship  was 
cast  away  two  years  and  a  half  after  we  sailed,  it  being  then 
midwinter,  which,  on  the  coast  of  Patagonia,  is  in  the  month 
of  July ;  and  I  think  that  we  lived  with  the  Indians  for  the 
space  of  two  years ;  it  was  time  enough  to  wear  out  all  that 
were  left  of  our  rags,  so  that  we  went  into  the  convent  with 
nothing  but  seal-skin  over  our  shoulders,  tied  round  the  waist 
with  a  thong  of  seal-skin  leather.  We  stayed  at  Chiloe,  where 
we  were  treated  more  hardly  than  with  the  priests,  yet  not  cru- 
elly, for  three  or  four  months,  when  the  governor  was  able  to 
send  us  on  to  the  port  of  Callao." 

"  He  is  now,"  said  the  admiral,  "  prisoner  of  the  Spanish,  and 
within  reach  of  the  Bloody  Inquisition.  Snowball,  fill  up  Mr. 
Easterbrook's  glass.  Keep  it  full,  ye  lubber !  at  such  a  time  he 
needs  all  the  punch  he  can  swallow." 

"  Out  of  the  whole  ship's  company  there  remained  now  but 
six.  They  put  us  in  prison,  but  they  gave  us  wine  and  food, 
chiefly  beans,  bread,  and  onions,  as  good  as  they  had  them- 
selves, and  sometimes  chocolate.  Presently  there  came  a 
priest,  and  began  to  talk  about  our  heretical  condition,  and 
the  dangers  we  ran  should  we  continue  in  obstinacy.  This 
made  us  mighty  uneasy,  as  you  may  imagine,  because  the  In- 
quisition— the  Holy  Inquisition,  as  they  call  it — is  established 
at  Lima,  whither,  the  padre  informed  us,  we  should  shortly  be 
taken.  It  seemed  likely  that  we  had  only  escaped  drowning 


124  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

to  suffer  the  rack  and  the  stake.  I  hope,  gentlemen,  that  I 
should  have  done  my  duty  even  to  the  end,  had  there  been  no 
escape.  Meantime  I  cast  about  how  to  get  out  of  their  clutch- 
es. We  had  a  good  deal  of  liberty  within  the  prison,  and  many 
visitors  came  there  bringing  cigarettes,  which  are  rolls  of  paper 
containing  tobacco,  to  the  prisoners,  who  were  mostly  half- 
caste,  in  prison  for  stabbing,  or  sailors  for  mutiny,  the  author- 
ities caring  little  how  the  prisoners  pass  the  time  so  long  as 
they  are  kept  in  limbo.  In  this  way  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  an  honest  Frenchman,  captain  of  a  trading  brig,  who,  I  found, 
hated  the  priests  and  all  their  works,  and  took  pity  on  me,  see- 
ing that  I  must  either  become  a  convert  or  be  burned.  Jle 
therefore  brought  me  a  disguise,  and  conveyed  me  safely  out 
of  prison  on  board  his  own  ship,  where  I  remained  stowed  away 
in  the  hold  until  he  sailed  out  of  harbor.  As  for  the  other  men, 
three  of  them  recanted  their  errors,  as  they  called  it,  and  walked 
in  the  procession  at  an  auto-da-fe  at  Lima,  where  the  other 
poor  fellows,  who  stuck  by  their  guns,  were  burned  alive." 

"  'Tis  a  damnable  nation,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes. 

"  Say  rather,"  said  the  vicar,  "  that  it  is  a  nation  under  the 
curse  of  a  gloomy  superstition,  which  prompts  them  to  commit 
these  cruelties." 

"  As  for  me,  I  worked  before  the  mast,  and  found  the  French 
sailors,  when  I  could  talk  their  lingo,  an  honest  set  of  fellows. 
But  when  we  got  to  Brest,  we  learned  that  war  had  broken  out ; 
and  so  I  was  a  prisoner  again,  and  marched  as  a  common  sailor, 
with  others  in  the  same  plight,  from  one  place  to  another,  till 
we  came  to  St.  Omer." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOW    JACK    THANKED    BESS. 

EARLY  in  the  evening,  when  the  common  sort  had  all  gone 
away,  well  filled  with  the  admiral's  best  October,  and  before 
the  gentlemen  arrived,  Jack  left  us,  and  stole  quite  unnoticed 
from  the  house.  As  he  left  us,  so  he  returned,  no  one  having 
observed  that  he  had  been  absent  for  a  moment.  Yet  we  were 
all  of  us  talking  and  thinking  of  no  one  else,  and  believed  that 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  125 

he  was  still  among  us.  So,  in  a  play  at  the  theatre,  when  the 
mind  is  fully  charged  and  occupied  with  the  hero,  so  that  one 
can  think  of  nothing  but  his  adventures,  we  do  not  perceive 
that  he  is  no  longer  on  the  stage  before  our  eyes ;  and  when 
he  presently  returns,  we  do  not  remember  that  he  has  ever 
been  out  of  our  sight,  and  all  that  has  passed  seems  to  have 
been  done  in  his  presence. 

But  why  Jack  left  us,  and  whither  he  went,  I  have  since 
been  told,  and  that,  as  one  may  say,  on  credible  authority — 
namely,  by  the  only  person  who  knows. 

In  short,  he  left  us  to  go  in  search  of  Bess,  his  heart  being 
already  inflamed  by  the  thought  of  her  beauty,  and  fired  with 
gratitude  because,  of  all  his  old  friends,  she  alone  recognized  him. 
Ulysses  was  recognized  by  none  but  his  dog.  Why,  Jack 
would  have  been  less  than  human,  a  mere  senseless  log,  had 
he  not  been  moved  by  this  circumstance.  And  so  far  from 
senseless,  his  was  a  heart  as  easily  inflamed  as  touchwood. 

Bess  was  sitting  on  the  floor  before  the  fire,  her  father  being 
somewhere  abroad,  I  suppose,  in  conversation  with  his  friends 
and  cronies,  the  sexton  and  the  barber.  It  was  Sunday  even- 
ing, therefore  she  had  no  knitting  or  work  of  other  kind  in  her 
hands.  She  could  not  read,  and  therefore  she  had  not  taken 
one  of  her  father's  books  ;  and  she  was  alone,  therefore  she 
was  not  talking.  Outside,  the  night  had  already  fallen,  but 
she  was  not  one  of  those  who  waste  good  money  by  burning 
candle  and  fire  at  the  same  time,  unless  for  the  sake  of  work. 
The  red  firelight  played  upon  her  cheeks,  and  made  them  glow, 
and  upon  her  eyes,  and  made  them  red  balls,  and  upon  the 
walls  of  the  room,  which  were  covered  with  specimens  of  the 
penman's  art,  pasted  on  the  wainscot,  and  on  the  sideboard, 
where  stood  the  candlesticks  of  brass,  and  the  snuffers  polished 
and  bright,  with  the  house  pewter,  which  shone  like  silver,  so 
good  a  housewife  was  this  girl.  Her  hands  lay  folded  in  her 
lap,  and  she  was  leaning  forward  as  if  reading  faces  in  the  red 
coals,  as  children  sometimes  love  to  play.  I  think  she  saw 
one  face  only,  and  that  a  strange,  wild  face,  with  matted  hair 
and  long  beard,  and  a  bloody  clout  across  the  forehead.  As 
to  her  thoughts — who  can  read  the  thoughts  that  crowd  into 
the  head  of  a  young  girl  ?  I  would  not  dare  to  say  that  up  to 
that  time  Bess  was  in  love  with  her  old  playfellow ;  yet  it  is 


126  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

certain,  because  Mr.  Brinjes  spoke  so  much  of  him,  that  he 
often  occupied  her  mind.  Nor  was  it,  I  venture  to  say,  all  on 
Jack's  account  that  she  would  listen  to  none  of  Aaron  Fletch- 
er's advances.  Yet  she  must  have  been  hard-hearted  indeed 
had  this  home-coming  failed  to  move  her  soul.  I  have  some- 
times thought  that  if  at  this  time  Jack  had  made  no  advances 
to  her,  she  must  presently  have  taken  Aaron  and  thought  no 
more  of  her  old  playfellow,  save  as  of  a  gallant  gentleman  be- 
longing to  a  class  above  her.  No  man  can  speak  positively  of 
a  woman's  mind ;  but  I  am  assured  that  it  is  seldom  in  the 
nature  of  a  woman  to  love  any  man — though  she  may  greatly 
admire  him — until  he  hath  first  shown  and  proved  by  words 
and  looks  that  he  thinks  of  her  and  loves  her.  Therefore,  if 
Jack  had  made  no  advances — however,  it  is  idle  to  talk  of  ad- 
vances ;  such  a  man  as  Jack  doth  not  make  advances,  they  are 
for  cooler  and  more  cautious  men  ;  he  lands,  charges,  and  car- 
ries by  storm  the  fortress  which  expected  to  be  besieged  by 
well-known  rules. 

Now,  as  she  sat  there  watching  the  coals  glowing  in  the  fire, 
Bess  suddenly  started,  and  her  heart  ceased  to  beat,  for  at  the 
door  she  heard  a  step.  She  remembered  that  step  after  six 
long  years,  and  the  latch  was  lifted,  and  Jack  himself  came 
in — a  thing  she  had  not  so  much  as  ventured  to  hope,  though 
she  expected  that  he  might  in  a  day  or  two  call  to  see  her 
father,  if  he  should  still  remember  his  former  instructor. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  half  afraid,  yet  rejoicing. 

"  Bess  !"  he  cried,  hoarsely.     "  You  had  not  forgotten  me  ?" 

He  was  dressed  now,  shaven,  and  washed  ;  a  tall  and  hand- 
some man,  though  pale  and  somewhat  hollow  in  the  cheek. 

"  Bess  !"  he  repeated,  holding  out  both  hands,  "  have  you 
nothing  to  say  to  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  Jack  ?"  she  whispered,  timidly.  But  now  she  was 
trembling,  and  really  afraid  of  him,  because  there  was  a  look 
in  his  eyes  which  frightened  her :  a  strange  look  it  is,  which 
painters,  for  the  most  part,  have  failed  to  catch  ;  it  is  one  which 
makes  the  eyes  soft  and  glowing ;  it  is  the  look  of  love  and 
longing.  Bess  had  never  seen  that  look,  and  it  frightened  her. 

"  Jack,"  she  said,  "  shall  I  go  and  look  for  father  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  he  answered,  "  you  knew  me,  Bess !"  His  voice 
was  husky.  "  All  the  rest  had  forgotten  me  ;  but  you  knew 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          127 

me.  Look  for  your  father  ?  Not  yet,  Bess  !  not  yet !  Oh, 
Bess  !"  He  said  no  more,  but  caught  her  hands,  drew  her 
towards  him,  and  kissed  her  a  thousand  times. 

Then,  in  a  moment,  all  her  love  went  out  to  him.  She  gave 
him  all  her  heart.  Thenceforward  she  was  no  longer  afraid 
of  him  ;  yet  she  was  his  servant  and  his  slave,  though  he  called 
her  mistress. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  presently,  "  let  me  look  at  my  sweet- 
heart. Nay,  the  firelight  will  do  to  light  those  eyes  ;  no  need 
of  a  candle.  Oh,  the  sweet  face  !  And  what  a  tall  girl  she  is ! 
Is  it  the  firelight  on  her  cheeks,  or  is  she  blushing  because 
her  lover  hath  kissed  her  ?  And,  oh,  the  rosy  lips  !  Kiss  me, 
Bess.  Kiss  me,  and  tell  me  that  you  love  me.  My  dear,  I  had 
forgotten  no  one  at  home — no  one  ;  but  until  you  caught  my 
hands  to-day,  I  did  not  know  how  much  I  loved  you.  And 
now,  tell  me,  pretty,  hast  thou  sometimes  thought  of  Jack  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  told  him.  "  I  have  never  forgotten — never  ; 
and  T  knew  you  were  not  drowned,  whatever  they  said,  and 
Mr.  Brinjes  always  declared  that  some  day  you  would  come 
home  again.  Often  and  often  I  have  gone  to  Philadelphy  and 
inquired  of  her  concerning  a  young  sailor — meaning  you,  Jack 
— but  I  did  not  tell  her  who  it  was,  and  always  her  reply  was 
that  he  was  safe,  and  would  come  home  again,  though  to  be 
sure,  she  said,  there  were  dangers  in  the  way.  She  is  a  proper 
witch,  and  knows.  But,  oh  !  Jack,  go  away ;  this  is  foolish- 
ness ;  you  must  not  kiss  me  any  more,  because  you  are  a  gen- 
tleman, and  I  am  only  a  simple  girl,  and  the  daughter  of  a 
plain  man.  You  must  not  talk  of  love  to  me  ;  you  must  not 
think  of  me,  Jack.  I  know  you  would  not  laugh  at  me,  and 
mock  me ;  but  you  must  not  think  of  me,  Jack.  Why,  there 
are  fine  ladies  in  plenty  who  would  die  for  love  of  you  !" 

"  And  could  you  die  for  love  of  me,  Bess  ?  Oh  !  how  could 
I  live  so  long  without  thee  ?" 

"  Oh,  Jack !"  she  murmured,  laying  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  "  I  would  rather  die  of  love  for  you  than  live  for 
the  love  of  some  one  else  ;  and,  oh  1  if  you  left  off  loving  me 
I  should  sit  down  and  pray  to  die  at  once." 

He  kissed  her  again — I  know  not  how  many  times  he  kissed 
her — telling  her,  which  was  quite  true,  because  his  thoughts 
ran  not  that  way,  that  he  cared  not  a  fig  for  all  the  fine  ladies 


128  THE    WORLD    WBNT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

in  London  town,  with  their  nimby-namby,  piminy  ways,  and 
their  hoops  and  paint ;  but  he  loved  an  honest  girl  with  roses 
of  her  own  in  her  cheeks,  who  would  love  him  in  return.  And 
so  their  pretty  love  talk  went  on,  with  thee  and  thou,  and 
kisses  sweet  as  honey  to  this  girl,  who  knew  not  how  or  why 
she  should  conceal  her  joy  and  her  love. 

"  I  never  knew,"  Bess  told  me  afterwards,  "  no,  I  never  knew 
what  happiness  could  be  until  I  sat  that  evening  with  my  sweet- 
heart's arms  round  my  waist,  and  my  face  upon  his  shoulder, 
so  that  he  could  kiss  me  as  often  as  he  pleased,  and  whisper 
that  he  loved  me.  Oh,  why — why  should  he  love  me  ?  he  so 
handsome  and  so  splendid,  and  I  so  simple  a  maid.  What  are 
a  girl's  good  looks  compared  with  a  man's  ?  And  how  should 
he  be  able  to  love  one  who  is  not  a  gentlewoman — he  who 
might,  had  he  chosen,  have  married  a  countess  ?" 

When  he  left  her,  which  was  all  too  soon,  because  the  ad- 
miral would  be  expecting  him,  the  girl  fell  upon  her  knees  and 
prayed.  This  was  a  thing  (she  confessed  it  to  me  herself) 
which  she  had  never  done  before  in  her  life,  except  in  church, 
and  according  to  the  Forms  contained  in  the  "  Book  of  Com- 
mon Prayer."  If  one  may  venture  so  to  speak  of  a  book  which 
hath  engaged  the  thoughts  and  labors  of  learned  and  pious 
men  since  the  foundation  of  the  Church — I  mean  the  "  Book 
of  Common  Prayer" — there  is  one  unfortunate  omission  in  its 
forms :  it  provides,  that  is  to  say,  for  all  the  other  great  events 
in  life,  namely,  birth,  baptism,  marriage,  the  arrival  of  chil- 
dren, sickness,  and  death,  but  there  is  no  form  of  prayer  for 
the  betrothal  of  a  man  and  a  maid.  Yet  there  are  many  ap- 
propriate lessons  that  might  be  taken  for  it  from  the  Old  and 
New  Testament ;  and  there  are  many  grateful  and  joyful 
Psalms ;  and  there  are  lovesick  verses ;  better,  surely,  were 
never  written  ;  especially  in  the  Song  of  Solomon ;  and,  with- 
out doubt,  if  ever  there  were  occasion  for  prayer  and  praise, 
it  is  when  a  pair  of  lovers  promise  in  private  what  they  will 
presently  promise  in  the  sight  of  the  congregation.  Bess,  poor 
child,  knew  no  prayer  fit  for  the  occasion  ;  but  she  knelt  upon 
the  floor,  and  with  tears  she  thanked  God  for  the  safe  return 
of  her  lover,  and  implored  him  to  extend  his  continual  pro- 
tection over  him. 

When  Mr.  Westmoreland  came  home  at  half-past  eight,  he 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          129 

was  astonished  to  find  that  his  daughter  had  forgotten  to  put 
out  the  bread  and  cheese  and  beer.  Heard  one  ever  of  house- 
wife forgetting  to  lay  the  supper?  And  though  he  talked 
about  nothing  but  Jack  Easterbrook — his  unexampled  sufferings 
and  his  wonderful  and  providential  preservation — this  strange 
daughter  of  his  was  so  cold  and  unfeeling  about  her  old  play- 
fellow that  she  hardly  said  a  word,  but  made  haste  to  go  to 
bed,  where  she  was  removed  from  her  father's  chatter,  and 
could  lie  contentedly  awake  all  night  long,  her  foolish  heart 
beating  with  the  joy  of  this  great  happiness. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

/ 

JACK    ASHORE. 

THE  next  day,  accompanied  by  the  admiral  and  Captain 
Petherick,  Jack  went  to  the  navy  office  in  Seething  Lane  to 
report  himself. 

And  here  began  trouble  he  did  not  expect.  For,  seeing 
that  they  had  long  since  written  off  the  ship  as  cast  away,  and 
her  company  as  dead,  at  first  it  appeared  as  if  Jack  had  lost 
his  seniority  for  certain,  even  if  he  had  not  been  removed  from 
the  king's  service.  The  latter  view  was  stoutly  maintained  by 
the  clerks,  who  argued  that  if  a  man  has  been  written  off  as 
dead,  he  must  be  dead,  or  else — a  thing  impossible  and  absurd, 
if  not  treasonable — the  navy  office  must  be  charged  with  error ; 
so  that,  if  he  should  afterwards  be  so  rash  as  to  return,  he  must 
either  be  considered  out  of  the  service,  or  must  begin  again 
at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder ;  otherwise  their  books  would  have 
to  be  rewritten ;  very  likely  the  estimates  must  be  amended, 
and  perhaps  even  a  new  audit  undertaken.  There  was  much 
correspondence  on  this  subject  carried  on  between  the  various 
departments ;  and,  for  aught  I  know,  it  may  still  be  going  on. 
While  it  was  still  in  agitation,  they  began  to  send  him  about, 
like  a  ball  at  the  game  of  cricket,  from  one  office  to  another. 
First,  they  sent  him  to  the  surveyor's  department,  which  re- 
quired him  to  make  a  return  of  the  ship's  stores  and  their 
expenditure  up  to  the  conclusion  of  the  voyage  ;  and  asked 
him  also  to  produce  the  purser's,  bo's'n's,  and  carpenter's  ac- 
6* 


130  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

counts,  the  muster-book,  and  the  log-book,  these  books  being 
always,  by  regulation,  required  of  the  captain  on  his  return. 
The  clerks  in  the  navy  office,  who  receive  fifty  pounds  a  year, 
and  live  at  ten,  or  even  twenty  times  that  rate  in  war  time, 
thus  showing  how  an  honest  man  may  prosper  merely  by  the 
handling  of  ship's  books  and  the  passing  the  captain's  papers, 
gave  this  young  officer,  from  whose  handling  no  profit  could 
be  obtained  for  themselves,  as  much  trouble  as  Jacks-in-office 
possibly  can ;  and,  being  themselves  bound  and  tied  by  all 
kinds  of  rules,  they  were  able  to  hamper  grievously  any  officer 
who  doth  not  first  grease  their  palms. 

Next,  when  Jack  expected  to  receive  the  six  years'  pay,  which 
was  certainly  due  to  him,  there  was  trouble  with  the  comptrol- 
ler's department,  which  contended  that,  as  he  had  not  served 
for  more  than  two  years,  he  was  entitled  to  no  more  than  so 
much  pay,  and  that  only  when  it  could  be  proved  that  he  had 
served  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  captain,  who,  we  know,  was 
dead  and  gone  ;  and  that,  as  regards  the  four  years  of  wander- 
ing and  captivity,  they  must  not  count  as  service  at  all. 

Thirdly,  when  Jack  asked  permission  to  pass  his  examina- 
tion in  seamanship  for  lieutenant's  rank,  it  was  objected  by  the 
clerks  of  the  secretary's  department,  first,  that  he  had  not,  in 
accordance  with  the  regulations,  put  in  his  log-books  or  jour- 
nals ;  secondly,  that  he  could  not  show  the  certificate  of  the 
captain ;  and  thirdly,  that  he  had  not  served  for  the  six  years 
required  by  the  rules  of  the  service.  At  all  these  vexatious 
delays  Jack  lost  his  temper,  and  would,  in  the  navy  office  itself, 
give  the  clerks,  in  good  fo'k's'le  English,  his  opinion  as  to 
their  motives  and  their  honesty,  which,  of  course,  exasperated 
those  gentlemen,  and  made  them  stand  out  still  more  stiffly 
for  the  letter  of  the  law. 

Now,  while  these  things  were  under  consideration,  the  com- 
missioners themselves,  being  informed  of  what  had  happened, 
sent  for  Jack,  and  examined  him  personally  concerning  the 
ship's  course,  the  discoveries  she  had  made,  the  natural  riches 
of  the  islands  among  which  he  had  sailed,  and  the  possibility 
of  establishing  settlements  and  posts  upon  them  which  might 
prove  effective  in  restraining  the  insolence  of  the  Spanish,  and 
in  preventing  the  establishment  of  the  French  power  in  those 
regions.  Finally,  they  instructed  him  to  draw  up,  without  fur- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  131 

ther  delay,  a  report  upon  the  voyage,  as  full  as  his  memory 
would  allow,  for  the  information  of  the  commissioners  and  the 
government,  containing  all  that  he  could  remember  of  the 
course,  and  what  he  had  observed  concerning  those  islands, 
and  especially  on  the  force  of  the  Spaniards  on  the  South 
American  shores ;  and,  which  was  no  doubt  gall  and  worm- 
wood to  the  clerks,  my  lords  the  commissioners  were  gracious- 
ly pleased  to  order  that  the  rules  of  the  service  should  in  this 
case  be  suspended,  and  that,  in  consideration  of  Mr.  Easter- 
brook's  previous  good  character,  and  undoubted  sufferings  after 
the  wreck  of  his  ship — for  which  he  could  not  be  held  in  any 
way  accountable — his  seniority  should  be  restored  to  him,  his 
years  of  wandering  and  captivity  should  be  all  counted  as  years 
of  service,  and  that  he  should  therefore  receive  full  pay  for  the 
whole  six  years  of  service  as  midshipman  on  board  a  first-rate — 
namely,  at  two  pounds  five  shillings  a  month,  which  made  the 
handsome  sum  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-two  pounds  ;  and, 
lastly,  that  he  should  be  permitted,  on  passing  his  examina- 
tion, to  assume  the  rank  and  uniform  of  lieutenant,  with  the 
assurance  of  a  commission  to  a  ship  as  soon  as  it  was  possible 
to  find  one  for  him.  This  promise  was  given  him  so  gravely, 
and  by  so  great  a  personage,  that  Jack  placed  the  most  certain 
trust  in  it. 

It  was  easier  for  Jack  to  pass  his  examination  in  seamanship 
and  navigation,  and  to  put  on  his  new  uniform,  than  to  write 
the  report  asked  of  him ;  for  he  had  never  the  pen  of  a  ready 
writer,  nor  had  he  the  least  knowledge  of  the  art  of  composition ; 
he  had  forgotten  how  to  spell  even  simple  words,  having  been 
deprived  of  books  for  four  years ;  and  he  had  almost  forgot- 
ten how  to  write.  He,  therefore,  by  the  admiral's  advice, 
sought  the  help  of  my  father,  who  questioned  him  minutely 
on  every  point ;  and  then,  with  the  assistance  of  the  charts, 
drew  up  with  his  own  hand  the  required  report ;  though,  with 
pardonable  license,  it  purported  to  be  written  by  none  other 
than  Mr.  Easterbrook.  It  contained  all  the  information  which 
the  author  could  elicit  by  careful  and  repeated  examination, 
and,  if  published,  would  have  proved  a  work  of  the  greatest 
curiosity  and  instruction,  embellished  with  the  charm  of  learned 
and  scholarly  style  which  was  so  much  admired  in  my  father's 
sermons,  enriched  with  reflections  and  meditations  proper  for 


132  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

the  various  scenes  and  adventures  through  which  the  (supposed) 
writer  passed,  and  made  useful  for  meditation  by  Scriptural 
references.  The  report  was  accompanied  by  a  chart  showing 
part  of  the  western  coast  of  New  Holland,  with  that  portion 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean  lying  south  of  the  equator  over  which  the 
Countess  of  Dorset  had  sailed.  This  part  of  the  sea  was  de- 
picted, by  the  hand  which  drew  the  chart,  as  covered  with  isl- 
ands, on  both  sides  of  the  ship's  way,  lying  as  thick  as  daisies 
on  a  grass  border.  Mr.  Westmoreland  it  was  who  drew  the 
chart ;  but  he  was  advised  and  assisted  by  Jack  himself,  and 
by  Mr.  Brinjes.  He  painted  the  water  blue,  and  the  islands 
and  coasts  red.  Another  hand — I  say  not  whose — decorated 
those  parts  of  the  ocean  where  no  ship  hath  yet  sailed,  and 
nothing  is  yet  known,  with  spouting  whales,  dolphins  at  play, 
sea-lions  sporting  on  rocks,  and  canoes  filled  with  black  men. 
The  same  hand  designed  and  painted  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  ocean,  off  the  island  of  California,  the  lively  representation 
of  an  engagement  between  the  great  seven-decked  Spanish  gal- 
leon from  Manilla,  and  a  small  English  vessel,  the  former  strik- 
ing her  colors,  and  the  latter  flying  the  flag  of  her  country, 
and  not  the  Jolly  Roger,  as  Mr.  Brinjes  desired.  In  the  left- 
hand  corner  Mr.  Westmoreland  drew  the  mariner's  compass, 
below  which  he  wrote  a  respectful  dedication  to  my  Lords  the 
Commissioners,  signed  with  the  name  of  John  Easterbrook, 
midshipman  on  board  the  Countess  of  Dorset.  The  whole  was 
finished  and  adorned  with  many  flourishes,  and  in  the  penman's 
finest  style.  He  wTas  so  proud  of  his  work  that,  I  believe,  he 
expected  nothing  less  than  a  public  commendation  of  it  in  the 
London  Gazette,  with  a  handsome  reward  in  money. 

Strange  to  say,  this  report,  which  we  hoped  would  have  been 
published  by  order  of  the  admiralty,  was  received  in  silence, 
and  was  never  afterwards  noticed  at  all.  I  know  not  what  be- 
came of  it,  for  Jack  obtained  no  acknowledgment  of  it,  nor  was 
any  praise  or  reward,  that  I  ever  heard  of,  given  to  the  pen- 
man, and  I  suspect  that  the  report  has  never  been  read  at  all, 
but  still  lies  on  the  shelves  of  the  navy  office.  But,  in  truth, 
the  wreck  of  the  Countess  of  Dorset  made  little  stir  at  the  time, 
because  this  intelligence  arrived  when  the  public  mind  was 
greatly  agitated  by  the  depredations  of  the  French  privateers, 
which  were  now  sweeping  the  Channel  an4  picking  up  our  mer- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  133 

chantmen,  and  with  the  efforts  made  by  the  government  to 
protect  our  coasts  and  the  seas,  so  that  the  loss  of  this  ship 
more  than  three  years  before,  even  in  so  lamentable  a  manner, 
affected  people  little.  All  this  done,  however,  Jack  returned 
to  Deptford,  taking  up  his  quarters  with  the  admiral,  and  in 
very  good  spirits,  being  well  assured  that  before  long  he  would 
have  his  commission,  and  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  long  and 
spirited  war,  the  French  having  begun  with  great  vigor,  and 
being  already  flushed  with  success,  so  that  they  would  take  a 
great  deal  of  beating.  He  had  also  jingling  in  his  pocket — 
no  sweeter  music,  while  it  lasts — the  whole  of  his  pay  for  six 
years.  With  this  money  he  was  enabled  to  purchase  a  new 
outfit  for  himself,  having  landed,  as  we  have  seen,  with  noth- 
ing in  the  world — no,  not  even  as  much  as  a  shirt.  However, 
he  very  soon  procured  a  sea-chest,  and  filled  it  once  more  with 
instruments,  books,  and  a  new  kit,  including  his  lieutenant's 
uniform,  in  which  it  must  be  confessed  he  looked  as  gallant 
and  handsome  an  officer  as  ever  put  on  the  blue  and  white,  with 
none  of  the  effeminacy  and  affected  daintiness  which  too  often 
spoil  the  young  soldier  as  well  as  the  London  beau.  Kather 
did  Jack  incline  to  the  opposite  vice,  being,  as  his  best  friends 
must  admit,  quite  deficient  in  the  graces,  ignorant  of  polite 
manners  and  conversation,  unused  to  the  society  of  ladies,  and, 
among  men,  knowing  but  little  of  what  some  have  called  the 
coffee-house  manner — that,  I  mean,  which  one  learns  by  inter- 
course with  strangers  and  general  company,  in  which  it  is 
necessary  to  concede  as  well  as  to  demand,  to  yield  as  well  as 
to  maintain.  Yet  no  swaggerer,  or  offender  against  the  peace 
of  quiet  men,  though  he  certainly  walked  with  his  head  in  the 
air,  as  if  the  whole  world  belonged  to  him,  and,  as  if  it  was 
his  right,  took  the  wall  of  every  one,  unless  an  old  man,  a  crip- 
ple, or  a  woman,  and  that  with  so  resolute  an  air  that  even  the 
bully-captains  of  the  street — who  are  always  ready  to  shoulder 
and  elbow  peaceful  men  into  the  gutter,  and,  on  a  mild  remon- 
strance, to  clap  hand  to  sword-hilt,  and  swear  blood  and  mur- 
der— these  worthies,  I  say,  stepped  meekly,  and  without  a  word, 
into  the  mud  when  they  beheld  this  young  sea-lion  marching 
towards  them,  over  six  feet  in  height,  with  shoulders  and  legs 
like  a  porter's  for  breadth  and  strength,  splendid  in  his  blue 
coat  with  gold-laced  hat,  his  crimson  sash,  his  white  silk  stock- 


134  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ings,  and  white  breeches.  One  thing  I  commended  in  him, 
that  he  wore  his  own  hair,  having  it  powdered  decently,  and 
tied  in  a  bag  with  a  black  ribbon,  a  fashion  which  especially 
becomes  a  sailor,  first,  because  a  wig  at  sea,  where  everything 
should  be  taut  and  trim,  must  be  troublesome ;  and,  secondly, 
because  if  it  be  blown  overboard,  what  is  a  man  to  do  for 
another  ? 

Fortunately  for  the  street  captains,  Jack  went  seldom  to  Lon- 
don, where  the  noise  of  the  carts  and  the  crowd  in  the  streets 
offended  him.  He  loved  not  to  be  jostled.  And  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  town  pleased  him  not.  Once  we  went  together 
to  see  the  play  at  Drury  Lane  ;  the  piece  was  a  comedy,  very 
ingenious  and  witty,  representing  modern  manners,  or  that  part 
of  modern  manners  which  belongs  to  the  nobility,  where,  I  sup- 
pose, there  is  always  intrigue,  and  the  conversation  always 
sparkles  with  epigram  ;  the  meaner  kind  know  not  this  kind 
of  life.  It  is  pleasant  to  look  on,  and  the  house  laughed  and 
applauded.  But  Jack  sat  glum,  and  presently  grew  impatient 
and  went  out,  and  would  have  no  more  of  it. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  call  this  a  play  of  modern  life  ?  If  a 
man  were  to  say  to  me  one  half  of  what  these  people  continu- 
ally say  to  each  other — one  calling  the  other,  though  in  fine 
words,  ass,  rogue,  liar,  or  clown — I  would  have  cleared  the 
whole  stage  long  ago.  Where  is  the  English  spirit  gone  ?  Let 
us  get  away." 

I  asked  him  whether  he  did  not  think  the  theatre  made  a 
fine  sight,  with  the  beautiful  dresses  of  the  ladies.  But  even 
this  did  not  please  him. 

"  Dresses  ?"  he  said.  "  Why,  they  are  designed  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  make  the  poor  souls  hideous.  Hoops,  powder 
and  paint,  hair  dressed  up  ;  I  should  like,  my  lad,  to  show  you 
beside  them  a  bevy  of  South  Sea  Island  girls,  barefooted,  with 
a  simple  petticoat  tied  round  them,  and  their  long  hair  flying 
loose.  Then  would  you  understand  how  a  woman  should  look. 
I  know  a  girl " — he  checked  himself — "  well,  put  her,  dressed 
as  she  is,  in  a  box  at  the  theatre,  and  she  would  be  like  the 
full  moon  among  the  twinkling  stars." 

I  might  have  replied  (which  is,  I  suppose,  the  truth)  that 
women  have  no  thought  of  form,  and  cannot  understand  that 
curve  which  Hogarth  has  drawn.  Therefore  they  understand 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  135 

not  why  men  love  a  woman's  figure,  and  regard  fashion  as 
nothing  more  than  an  exhibition  of  costly  and  beautiful  stuffs, 
silk,  lace,  and  embroidery,  to  set  off  which  the  figure  serves 
as  a  frame  or  machine  on  which  they  may  be  hung.  Other- 
wise women  would  strive  for  a  fashion  at  once  becoming  and 
fitted  to  the  figure,  which  they  would  then  never  alter,  as  the 
Greeks  retained  always  the  same  simple  mode. 

With  these  views  as  to  ladies'  dress,  it  is  easy  to  understand 
that  Jack  found  very  little  pleasure  in  visiting  Ranelagh  or 
Vauxhall,  though  the  freedom  of  Bagnigge  Wells  was  more 
to  his  taste.  Nor  did  he  delight  in  the  coffee-houses.  I  took 
him  to  the  Smyrna,  where  the  politicians  resort,  and  to  the 
Rainbow,  where  the  wits  and  templars  are  found ;  to  the  White 
Lion,  in  Wych  Street,  where  they  have  concerts  and  women 
who  sing.  But  he  found  the  conversation  insipid  and  the 
manners  affected. 

There  was  only  one  place  of  public  resort  which  he  heartily 
approved.  It  was  the  famous  mug-house  in  Long  Lane,  whither 
one  evening  we  went,  Mr.  Brooking,  the  painter,  taking  us 
thither.  It  is  frequented  by  many  brethren  of  the  brush,  who 
for  some  reason  are  always  more  inclined  to  mirth  and  gayety 
than  the  sober  merchant.  In  this  room  there  are  fiddles  and  a 
harp  ;  the  room  is  divided  into  small  tables  which  drink  to  each 
other ;  a  president  calls  for  a  song,  and  one  song  is  followed  by 
another  till  midnight,  the  company  drinking  to  each  other  from 
table  to  table,  some  taking  strong  beer,  some  flip,  some  rumbo, 
and  some  punch.  Jack  admired  greatly  the  freedom  of  con- 
versation, which  had  nothing  of  the  coffee-house  stiffness;  the 
heartiness  with  which  one  table  would  drink  a  bout  with  an- 
other ;  the  tobacco  and  the  singing,  for  which  this  mug-house 
was  then  famous,  and  all  with  so  many  jokes  and  so  much 
laughter  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  think  there  was  so  much  hap- 
piness left  in  the  world. 

But  most  of  his  time  Jack  spent  at  Deptf ord,  his  mornings  in 
the  yard  among  the  ships,  and  his  evenings  at  the  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff  with  the  admiral,  or  in  the  officers'  room  at  the  Gun  Tav- 
ern, whither  the  lieutenants  and  the  midshipmen  resorted  for 
tobacco  and  punch. 

There  remained  the  afternoon,  which,  had  he  chosen,  he 
might  have  spent  with  the  admiral's  lady  and  Castilla. 


136  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Our  conversation,"  said  that  sweet  girl,  "  hath  no  attraction 
for  Jack.  He  loves  sailors  better  than  ladies,  and  tobacco 
better  than  tea ;  and  he  would  rather  hear  the  fiddle  than  the 
harpsichord,  and  the  bawling  by  a  brother-officer  of  a  sea-song 
than  a  simple  ditty  from  me." 

I  suppose  that  Castilla  was  naturally  a  little  hurt  that  Jack 
showed  no  admiration  for  those  accomplishments  of  which  slie 
was  justly  proud.  No  one  played  more  sweetly  or  sang  more 
prettily  the  songs  which  she  knew  than  Castilla.  Every  girl 
likes  a  little  attention;  but  this  young  sea-bear  gave  Castilla 
none.  Every  girl  likes  to  think  that  her  conversation  is  pleas- 
ing to  the  men ;  Jack  showed  no  pleasure  at  all  in  Castilla's 
talk.  He  was  thinking,  though  this  we  knew  not  yet,  of  an- 
other girl,  whose  charms  bewitched  him  and  made  him  insensi- 
ble to  any  other  woman. 

At  this  period  of  his  life  it  is  certain  that  Jack  loved  not 
the  conversation  of  ladies,  finding  it  perhaps  insipid  after  the 
fo'ks'le  talk  he  had  lately  experienced  in  the  French  prison  and 
his  savage  life  among  the  Indians.  "  If  a  man,"  he  said,  "  must 
needs  associate  with  women  at  all,  give  me  a  woman  who  is  not 
squeamish  over  a  damn  or  two,  and  lets  a  man  tell  his  story 
through  his  own  way,  without  holding  up  her  hands  to  her  face 
and  crying  fie  upon  him  for  naughty  words ;  and  one  who  can 
mix  him  a  glass  of  punch — ay,  and  help  him  to  drink  it — and 
won't  begin  to  cough  directly  his  pipe  of  tobacco  is  lit.  As  for 
your  cards,  and  your  music,  and  your  drinking  of  tea,  it  is  all 
very  well  for  landsmen.  I  dare  say  you  like  handling  about 
the  cups  for  madame,  and  passing  the  cream  and  sugar  to  the 
young  misses." 

"  You  can  take  your  tea  as  the  admiral  takes  his,  Jack,  with 
a  dram  of  rosa  solis  after  it." 

"  What  is  it  at  best  but  a  medicine  ?  Why  not  ask  people 
to  come  and  drink  physic  together  ?  Why  not  ask  Mr.  Brinjes 
to  prescribe,  as  he  does,  his  tea  of  betony,  speedwell,  sage,  or 
camomile  ?  Or,  if  you  must  drink  messes,  there  is  chocolate,  as 
the  Spaniards  have  it.  But  as  for  tea,  with  the  strumming  of  a 
harpsichord,  and  playing  at  cards  for  counters,  and  ladies  talking 
fiddle-faddle,  and  Castilla  asking  you  if  you  like  this,  or  you 
would  rather  choose  the  other,  I  confess,  my  lad,  I  cannot  en- 
dure it." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  137 

"  Castilla,  Jack  ?     Surely  she  is  to  your  taste  ?" 

"  Why,  as  for  that,  she  is  a  delicate  slip  of  a  girl ;  she 
has  soft  cheeks,  it  is  true,  and  brown  hair.  Give  me  a  tall, 
strong  woman,  who  knows  her  own  mind  and  what  she  likes, 
and  likes  it  in  earnest.  Give  me  a  woman  with  a  spice  of  the 
devil." 

"  Well,  Jack,"  I  said,  surprised  that  he  was  not  already  in 
love  with  Castilla,  "  there  are  plenty  of  women  in  Deptford  who 
are  all  devil,  if  they  can  tempt  you." 

He  had  got  already,  though  I  knew  it  not,  a  woman  who  pos- 
sessed her  full  share  of  the  element  he  so  much  desired. 

In  the  afternoons,  therefore,  he  did  not  court  the  society  of 
Castilla,  but  he  went  back  to  his  old  custom,  and  sat  for  the 
most  part  in  the  apothecary's  parlor ;  not  so  much  for  the  pleas- 
ure which  he  took  in  the  conversation  of  that  worthy  and  ex- 
perienced gentleman,  as  that  in  this  way  he  could  enjoy  the 
company  of  another  person,  who  generally  came  in  accidentally 
about  the  same  time,  but  through  the  garden  gate  and  the  back 
door,  while  the  lieutenant  marched  in  boldly,  for  all  the  world 
to  see,  through  the  shop.  As  Mr.  Brinjes  slept  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  afternoon,  these  two  could  say  what  they  pleased  to 
each  other  without  fear  of  being  overheard.  And  nobody  so 
much  as  suspected  that  they  were  in  this  room  except  the  as- 
sistant, who  stood  all  day  at  the  counter  rolling  boluses,  pound- 
ing drugs,  and  mixing  nauseous  draughts.  One  might  have 
chosen  a  sweeter-smelling  place  for  love-making,  but  then  it  had 
the  look  of  a  cabin,  and  something  of  its  smell,  and  Jack  found 
no  fault  with  it. 

"  We  talked,"  Bess  told  me,  in  the  time  when  her  only  pleas- 
ure was  tov  think  and  talk  about  Jack,  and  when  there  was  no 
one  but  myself  with  whom  she  could  speak  about  him — "we 
talked  all  the  afternoon  in  whispers,  so  as  not  to  wake  up  Mr. 
Brinjes,  who  slept  among  his  pillows.  We  sat  in  the  window- 
seat,  my  head  on  his  breast,  and  his  fingers  played  with  my 
hair,  and  sometimes  he  kissed  me.  Jack  told  me  all  he  was 
going  to  do  ;  he  was  to  get  his  commission,  and  go  fighting ;  he 
would  go  for  choice  where  there  were  the  hardest  knocks ;  they 
would  make  a  vast  deal  of  prize-money ;  and  he  would  get  pro- 
moted, and  made  captain,  with  twelve  pounds  a  month,  and 
then,  when  he  came  home,  he  would  marry  me." 


138  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  And  did  Mr.  Brinjes,"  I  asked,  "  never  wake  up  and  inter- 
rupt this  pastime  ?" 

She  laughed.  "  Why,  when  he  woke  up,  he  would  say : 
*  Kiss  her  again,  Jack.  She  is  the  best  girl  in  Deptford.  I 
have  saved  her  for  thee.  Kiss  her  again.'  He  has  always  been 
kind  to  me,  and  would  never  believe  that  Jack  was  drowned, 
and  would  still  be  talking  of  him,  which  was  the  reason  why  I 
knew  him  again  when  he  came  back.  And  then  Mr.  Brinjes 
would  sit  up  and  talk  about  his  treasure,  and  how  he  shall  some 
day  fit  out  a  ship,  and  we  are  all  to  go  sailing  after  the  treasure, 
which  is  to  be  my  marriage-portion,  when  it  is  recovered,  so 
that  Jack  will  marry,  after  all,  the  greatest  heiress  in  England." 

These  things  1  heard,  I  say,  after  Jack  went  to  sea  again,  and 
while  Bess,  like  so  many  women,  sat  at  home  waiting  and  pray- 
ing for  her  lover's  safe  return.  All  that  time  no  one  knew,  or 
so  much  as  suspected,  what  was  going  on.  Otherwise,  I  fear, 
hard  things  would  have  been  said  of  poor  Bess  by  those  of  her 
own  sex.  Men,  in  such  matters,  judge  each  other  more  leniently 
and  with  less  suspicion. 

If,  now.  Jack  had  not  been  first  recognized  by  Bess ;  if  he 
had  not  gone  to  see  her  the  first  day  of  his  arrival ;  if — but 
what  doth  it  profit  to  say  that  if  such  and  such  things  had  not 
happened  other  things  would  have  turned  out  differently  ?  It 
is  vain  and  foolish  talk.  Our  lives  are  not  governed  by  blind 
chance ;  and  we  must  not  doubt  that,  for  some  wise  end  which 
we  know  not  and  are  not  expected  to  know,  or  even  to  guess, 
all  that  happens  to  us  is  ordered  and  settled  for  us  beforehand. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    MEDDLESOME    ASSISTANT. 

THE  first  trouble  came  to  the  lovers  through  the  meddlesome- 
ness and  malignity  of  the  apothecary's  assistant.  Had  Jack 
known  what  this  man  did,  I  think  he  would  have  made  him 
swallow  the  contents  of  every  bottle  in  the  shop.  But  he  never 
knew  it ;  nor  had  he  the  least  reason  to  suspect  the  assistant. 
James  Hadlow  (which  was  his  name)  was  a  man  of  small  stature 
and  insignificant  aspect,  made  ridiculous  by  his  leathern  apron, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  139 

Which  covered  the  front  of  him  from  chin  to  toes,  and  was  too 
long,  having  been  made  for  a  taller  man,  his  predecessor.  His 
eyes,  as  has  been  already  stated,  were,  as  to  their  movements, 
independent  of  each  other.  He  seldom  spoke,  and  went  about 
his  business  steadily  and  quietly ;  a  man  apparently  without 
passions,  who  had  no  more  compassion  for  a  sick  man  than  for 
a  log  of  wood ;  a  man  who  never  loved  a  woman  or  had  a  friend, 
and  who,  when  he  was  afterwards  knocked  on  the  head  in  a 
waterman's  house  of  call  while  dressing  wounds  caught  in  a 
drunken  broil,  left  no  one  to  lament  his  loss.  Neither  man  nor 
woman  in  Deptford  ever  regarded  him  at  all,  any  more  than 
one  regards  the  fellow  who  brings  the  wine  at  a  tavern.  Yet, 
which  is  a  thing  we  should  never  forget,  there  is  no  man  so  meek 
that  he  cannot  feel  the  passion  of  resentment,  and  none  so  weak 
that  he  cannot  do  his  enemy  a  mischief.  Now,  for  something 
that  was  said  or  done,  or  perhaps  omitted — I  know  not  what — 
this  man  conceived  a  malignant  desire  for  revenge.  I  know  not 
which  of  the  three  had  offended  him — perhaps  Jack,  who  was 
masterful,  and  despised  little  and  humble  men ;  perhaps  Mr. 
Brinjes  himself,  who  was  hard  towards  his  servants ;  perhaps 
Bess.  But,  indeed,  if  a  creeping  thing  stings  one,  do  we  stop 
to  inquire  why  it  hath  done  us  this  mischief  ? 

Everybody  in  the  town  knew  that  Aaron  Fletcher  wanted  to 
marry  Bess,  and  that  in  her  pride  she  would  have  nothing  to 
say  to  him,  and  had  refused  him  a  dozen  times.  It  was  also 
known  that  Aaron  went  about  saying  that  he  would  crack  the 
crown  of  any  man  who  ventured  to  make  love  to  his  girl — call- 
ing her  openly  his  girl — even  if  he  were  a  commissioned  officer 
of  the  king.  When  so  tall  and  stout  a  fellow  promises  this, 
young  men,  even  brave  men,  are  apt  to  consider  whether  an- 
other woman  may  not  be  found  as  beautiful.  Therefore,  for 
some  time,  those  wlio  would  willingly  have  courted  Bess  kept 
away  from  her,  and,  in  the  long-run,  I  am  sure  that  Aaron 
would  have  triumphed,  being  constant  in  his  affections  as  he 
was  strong  and  brave.  Unhappily  for  him,  Jack  Easterbrook 
returned.  First  of  all,  when  Aaron  came  up  from  Gravesend,  a 
few  days  later,  and  became  a  peaceful  boat-builder  again  in 
place  of  a  smuggler,  he  began  to  watch  and  to  spy  upon  the 
movements  of  Bess,  employing  a  girl  whose  father  worked  for 
him  at  his  boat-building,  and  lived  in  a  house  nearly  opposite 


140  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

to  that  of  Mr.  Westmoreland.  She  reported  that  Bess  stayed 
at  home  all  day  long,  and  though  Lieutenant  Easterbrook  had 
been  to  the  house,  it  was  only  to  see  her  father,  who  came  to 
the  door  and  spoke  with  him  there,  and  Bess  never  met  him. 
So  that,  although  Aaron  heard  the  story  of  her  recognizing  him 
in  his  rags,  he  thought  little  of  that,  and  made  up  his  mind  that 
the  lieutenant  had  quite  forgotten  the  girl,  and  cared  no  more 
about  her,  even  if  he  had  ever  thought  of  her ;  and  when  Jack, 
by  the  grace  of  my  lords  the  commissioners,  appeared  in  his 
new  uniform,  he  seemed  to  be  so  much  raised  above  Bess  in 
rank  that  it  was  impossible  he  should  any  longer  think  of  her. 
Moreover,  Aaron  discovered  that  the  lieutenant's  mornings  were 
spent  in  the  yard,  his  afternoons  with  Mr.  Brinjes,  and  his  even- 
ings at  the  tavern ;  so  that,  except  for  the  fact  that  there  was 
no  woman  at  all  in  the  daily  history  of  the  lieutenant — a  sus- 
picious circumstance  where  a  sailor  is  concerned — he  felt  satis- 
fied. This  officer  would  go  away  again  soon ;  meantime  he 
thought  no  more  about  Bess.  When  the  lieutenant  was  gone, 
his  own  chance  would  come.  For  my  own  part,  I  sincerely 
wish  that  things  had  been  exactly  as  Aaron  wished  them  to  be 
— namely,  that  Jack  had  quite  forgotten  the  girl,  and  that  he 
had  fallen  in  love  with  Castilla  or  some  one  else,  and  that  Bess, 
weary  of  much  importunity  or  softened  in  heart,  had  accepted 
the  hand  of  this  great  burly  fellow,  who  loved  her  so  constantly. 
Whereas —  But  you  shall  see. 

It  happened,  however,  one  evening  about  eight  o'clock,  when 
Jack  had  been  at  home  some  three  weeks,  that  Aaron,  sitting 
alone  in  his  house,  which  stood  on  one  side  of  his  boat-building 
yard,  overlooking  the  river  between  the  Upper  and  the  Lower 
Water  Gate,  heard  footsteps  in  his  yard  without.  He  rose,  and, 
opening  the  door,  called  to  know  who  was  there  at  that  time, 
and  bade  the  visitor  come  to  the  house  without  more  ado. 

His  visitor  proved  to  be  the  man  Hadlow. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  want  ?"  asked  Aaron.  Mr.  Brinjes 
himself  was  a  man  to  be  treated  with  the  greatest  respect,  but 
his  assistant,  who  was  not  credited  with  any  magical  powers,  and 
could  certainly  not  command  rheumatics,  or  give  any  more  pain 
than  is  caused  by  the  drawing  of  a  tooth,  was  regarded  with  the 
contempt  which  attaches  to  the  trade  of  mixing  nauseous  med- 
icines. "  What  do  you  want  here  at  this  time  ?  I  have  not 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          141 

sent  for  any  of  your  bottles,  and  I  don't  want  any  of  your 
leeches." 

"  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon,  Mr.  Fletcher.  I  have  brought 
no  bottles  and  no  leeches." 

"  Then  what  are  you  come  for  ?" 

"  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon  again,  Mr.  Fletcher,  seeing  that 
I  am  but  a  poor  well-wisher  and  admirer — " 

Here  Aaron  discharged  a  volley  of  curses  at  the  man,  which 
made  his  knees  to  tremble. 

"  I  have  come,  Mr.  Fletcher,  desiring  to  do  my  duty,  though 
but  a  poor  apothecary's  assistant,  who  may  one  day  become  an 
apothecary  myself  ;  when,  sir,  if  a  tooth  wants  to  be  drawn,  or 
a  fever  to  be  reduced,  or  a  rheumatism — '* 

Here  Mr.  Fletcher  gave  renewed  proof  of  impatience. 

"  Then,  sir,  I  have  come  to  tell  you  a  thing  which  you  ought 
to  know." 

"  Say  it  out,  then,  man." 

"  First,  I  am  afraid  of  angering  you." 

Mr.  Fletcher  turned  and  went  back  into  his  room,  whence  he 
emerged  bearing  a  thick  rope's-end  about  two  and  a  half  feet 
long.  This,  in  the  hands  of  so  big  and  powerful  a  man  as 
Aaron  Fletcher,  is  a  fearful  weapon.  He  used  it  for  the  cor- 
rection of  his  'prentices,  and  it  was  very  well  known  that  there 
was  nowhere  a  workshop  where  the  'prentices  were  better  be- 
haved or  more  industrious.  Such  was  the  wholesome  terror 
caused  by  the  brandishing  of  a  rope's-end  in  the  hands  of  this 
giant. 

"  Hark  ye,  mate,"  he  said,  balancing  this  instrument,  so  that 
the  assistant  turned  pale  with  terror,  and  his  eyes  rolled  about 
all  ways  at  once,  "  you  have  angered  me  already,  and  if  you 
anger  me  more,  you  shall  taste  the  rope's-end.  Wherefore  lose 
no  more  time." 

"  It  is  about  Bess  Westmoreland.  Oh,  Mr.  Fletcher  ?"— for 
the  boat-builder  raised  his  arm — "  patience  !  Hear  me  out !" 
The  arm  went  down.  "  It  is  about  Bess  Westmoreland.  Ev- 
erybody knows  that  you  have  " — here  the  arm  went  up  again. 
"  And  it  is  about  Lieutenant  Easterbrook.  Bess  and  the  lieu- 
tenant—  Oh,  sir,  have  patience  till  you  hear  what  I  have  to 
tell  you !" 

"My  patience  will  not  last  much  longer.     Death  and  the 


142  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

devil,  man !  what  do  you  mean  by  talking  about  Bess  West- 
moreland and  Lieutenant  Easterbrook?  He  has  seen  her  but 
once  since  his  return." 

"  By  your  leave,  sir,  he  sees  her  every  day." 

Aaron  threw  the  rope's-end  from  him  with  an  oath.  Then 
he  caught  the  man  by  the  coat  collar,  and  dragged  him  into 
the  room. 

"  Come  in  here,"  he  said.  "  By  the  Lord,  if  you  are  fooling 
me  I  will  murder  you  !" 

"  If  that  is  all,"  the  man  replied,  "  I  have  no  fear.  I  am 
not  fooling  you,  Mr.  Fletcher;  I  am  telling  you  the  sober 
truth." 

"  Man,  I  know  how  the  lieutenant  spends  his  time.  He  is  all 
the  morning  in  the  yard,  looking  at  the  ships  and  talking  to  the 
officers.  In  the  afternoon  he  sits  with  Mr.  Brinjes,  and  in  the 
evening  he  drinks  at  the  tavern.  As  for  the  girl,  she  never  sees 
him." 

"  You  are  wrong,  sir.  But,  oh,  Mr.  Fletcher,  don't  tell  any 
one  I  told  you !  The  lieutenant  is  the  strongest  man  in  the 
town — next  to  you,  sir — next  to  you — and  the  master  can  do 
dreadful  things  if  he  chooses ;  and  Bess  herself  in  a  rage — have 
you  ever  seen  Bess  in  a  rage  ?  Oh,  sir,  first  promise  me  not  to 
tell  who  gave  you  the  intelligence." 

"  Do  you  want  a  bribe  ?" 

"  No,  I  want  no  bribe.  I  hate  'em — I  hate  'em.  And  the 
one  I  hate  most  is  the  lieutenant,  because  if  I  was  nothing  bet- 
ter than  the  dust  beneath  his  feet  he  couldn't  treat  me  with 
more  contempt." 

"  Go  on,  man.     Tell  me  what  you  have  to  say,  and  begone." 

"He  goes  every  afternoon  to -Mr.  Brinjes." 

"  I  know  that." 

"  You  think  he  goes  to  talk  to  the  old  man,  I  suppose  ?  He 
does  not,  then.  My  master  sleeps  all  the  afternoon.  If  he  didn't 
sleep,  he  would  die.  He  says  so.  The  lieutenant  goes  there 
to  make  love  to  Bess." 

Aaron  turned  pale. 

"  She  comes  in  every  day  by  the  garden  gate  and  the  back 
door,  so  that  no  one  should  suspect.  And  no  one  knows  except 
me.  But  I  know ;  I  have  looked  through  the  keyhole.  Besides, 
I  hear  them  talking.  Every  day  she  comes,  every  day  they  sit 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  143 

together,  he  with  his  arm  round  her  waist,  or  round  her  neck 
playing  with  her  hair,  and  she  with  her  head  upon  his  shoulder 
— kissing  each  other  and  making  love,  while  the  master  is  sound 
asleep  by  the  fire." 

"  Go  on." 

"  When  the  master  wakes  up  he  laughs,  and  he  says,  '  Kiss 
her  again,  Jack.'  Then  he  laughs  again,  and  he  wishes  he  was 
young  again." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  That  is  all.  For  the  Lord's  sake,  Mr.  Fletcher,  don't  let 
any  one  know  who  told  you.  Mr.  Brinjes  would  kill  me,  I 
think.  And  mind  you,  Mr.  Fletcher,  whatever  you  do,  remem- 
ber that  the  master  is  able  to  kill  you,  and  will,  too,  if  you  harm 
the  lieutenant.  He  knows  how  to  kill  people  by  slow  torture. 
There's  a  man  in  the  town  now,  covered  with  boils  and  blains 
from  head  to  foot,  says  it's  the  apothecary  hath  bewitched  him. 
Don't  offend  Mr.  Brinjes,  sir." 

"  My  lad,"  said  Aaron,  grimly,  "  I  doubt  whether  I  ought  not 
to  take  the  rope's-end  to  your  back  for  interfering  with  me 
and  my  concerns.  Now  if  you  so  much  as  dare  to  talk  to  any 
man  in  this  place  about  what  you  have  seen  and  told  me — what- 
ever happens  afterwards — remember,  whatever  happens  after- 
wards— it  is  not  a  rope's-end  that  I  shall  take  to  you,  but  a 
cudgel ;  and  I  shall  not  beat  you  black  and  blue,  but  I  shall 
break  every  bone  in  your  measly  skin.  Get  out,  ye  miserable, 
sneakin',  creepin'  devil !" 

That  was  all  the  thanks  that  the  poor  wretch  Hadlow  ever 
got  for  the  mischief  he  had  made  ;  but  the  thought  that  he  had 
made  mischief  consoled  him.  Something  was  now  going  to 
happen.  So  he  went  his  way,  contented  with  his  evening's  work. 

Then  Aaron  sat  down,  and  began  to  think  what  he  should 
best  do.  He  had  been  full  of  Christian  charity  towards  the 
man  who  was  not,  after  all,  as  he  feared,  his  rival ;  there  would 
be  no  more  talk  of  quarrelling  and  fighting  between  them ;  the 
shilling  need  not  be  fought  for ;  the  lieutenant  belonged  to  a 
different  rank ;  in  course  of  time  Bess  would  tire  of  her  resist- 
ance, and  would  yield.  Now  all  was  altered  again.  His  old 
rival  was  still  a  rival,  and  there  must  be  fighting. 

Presently  he  rose,  and  walked  up  the  street  to  the  penman's 
house. 


144  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Mr.  Westmoreland  was  at  the  tavern  with  his  friends  the  as- 
sistant shipwright,  the  sexton,  and  the  barber.  Bess  was  sitting 
alone,  with  a  candle  and  her  work. 

"  Bess,"  said  Aaron,  "  I  want  to  have  a  serious  talk  with  you ; 
may  I  come  in  ?" 

"  No,  Aaron.  Stand  in  the  doorway,  and  talk  there.  I  am 
not  going  to  let  anybody  say  that  I  let  you  into  the  house  when 
father  was  out  of  it ;  but  if  you  want  to  talk  foolishness,  you 
can  go  away  at  once.  It  is  high  time  to  have  done  with  fool- 
ishness." 

Aaron  obeyed — that  is  to  say,  he  remained  standing  at  the 
open  door,  and  he  said  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  It  is  for  your  own  good,  Bess ;  though  you  won't  believe 
that  anything  I  say  is  for  your  own  good." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  It  is  this.  Every  afternoon  you  go  to  Mr.  Brinjes's  parlor 
to  meet  Lieutenant  Easterbrook.  You  go  out  by  your  garden 
gate,  so  that  no  one  may  see  or  suspect,  and  the  lieutenant  goes 
in  by  the  shop.  In  the  parlor,  while  the  old  man  is  asleep,  you 
kiss  each  other  and  make  love." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Aaron,  you  are  a  spy." 

"  I  have  been  told  this,  but  I  did  not  spy  it  out  for  myself. 
Very  well,  then,  spy  or  not,  think  Bess.  The  lieutenant  has 
never  yet  got  appointed  to  a  ship ;  perhaps  he  never  will.  He 
has  got  no  money ;  he  cannot  marry  you  if  he  would.  If  he 
were  to  marry  you,  the  admiral  would  never  forgive  him ;  if 
he  doesn't  marry  you,  why — there — Bess." 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?"  she  asked,  trying  not  to  lose 
her  temper,  because  she  had  the  sense  to  perceive  that  it  would 
not  please  her  lover  if  she  quarrelled  about  him  with  this  man. 
"  Is  that  all,  Aaron  ?" 

"  Why,  I  might  say  it  a  thousand  times  over,  but  it  wouldn't 
amount  to  much  more  than  this.  He  can't  marry  you  if  he 
wants  to  ;  and  if  he  doesn't  want  to,  a  girl  of  your  spirit  ought 
to  be  too  proud  to  listen  to  his  talk." 

"Aaron,  you  shall  pay  for  this,"  cried  Bess,  with  naming 
eyes. 

"  You  a  lady,  Bess  ?  You  to  marry  a  king's  officer  ?  Know 
your  own  station,  my  girl.  You  are  the  daughter  of  the  pen- 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          145 

man,  and  you  can  neither  read  nor  write.     But  there's  a  chance 
yet :  send  him  packing  first,  and  then  you  shall  see." 

"  Aaron,  you  shall  pay,"  she  repeated ;  "  you  shall  pay." 

"  I  say,  Bess,  I  will  give  you  another  chance.  Before  your 
name  gets  dragged  in  the  mud  and  you  become  the  town  talk, 
send  him  packing,  and  you  shall  have  me  if  you  please.  Bess, 
I  love  you  better  than  the  lieutenant,  for  all  he  wears  silk  stock- 
ings. I  love  you  in  spite  of  yourself,  Bess.  You've  been  a 
fool,  but  you've  been  carried  away  by  your  woman's  vanity, 
and  there's  not  much  harm  done  yet.  Give  him  up,  Bess,  and 
you  shall  find  me  loving  and  true." 

In  his  emotion  his  voice  grew  hoarse  and  thick.  But  he 
meant  what  he  said,  and  it  would  have  been  better  if  Bess  had 
taken  him  at  his  word  on  the  spot.  But  she  did  not.  She  was 
carried  away  by  her  wrath,  but  yet  so  governed  that  she  knew 
what  she  was  saying. 

"  It  is  six  years,"  she  said, "  since  I  looked  on  while  you  fought 
him  and  were  beaten.  I  liked  nothing  better  than  to  see  you 
defeated  and  Jack  victorious.  Because,  even  then,  you  pre- 
tended to  have  some  claim  upon  me,  though  I  was  but  a  little 
girl.  Now,  Aaron,  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  to  see 
Jack  beat  and  bang  you  again  until  you  cried  for  mercy."  Her 
eyes  were  flashing  and  her  cheek  red,  and  she  stamped  her  foot 
upon  the  ground.  "  Oh,  I  should  like  nothing  better !" 

"  Should  you,  Bess — should  you  ?"  he  replied,  strangely,  not 
in  a  rage  at  all,  but  with  a  great  resolution. 

"  To  see  you  lying  at  his  feet.  You,  his  rival ! — you  !  Why, 
you  may  be  bigger — so  is  a  collier  bigger  than  a  little  sloop. 
That  is  a  great  matter,  truly  ?  You  his  rival !  To  think  that 
any  woman  whom  he  has  once  kissed  should  ever  be  able  so 
much  as  to  look  at  you — oh,  Aaron !  But  you  don't  know ; 
you  are  too  common  and  ignorant  to  know  the  difference  there 
is  between  you." 

"  You  would  like  to  see  him  beat  and  bang  me,  would  you, 
Bess?  Why,  then,  it  is  as  easy  as  breaking  eggs.  You  shall 
have  the  chance.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  tell  your  fine  lover 
that,  as  regards  that  shilling — he  will  know  what  shilling  I  mean 
— I  am  waiting  and  ready  to  have  that  repaid,  or  to  take  it  out 
in  another  way — he  will  know  the  way  I  mean.  And  then,  my 
girl,  if  you  like  to  be  present,  you  can.  But  I  promise  you  the 
7 


146  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

beating  and  the  banging  will  be  all  the  other  way,  and  your  fine 
lover,  gentleman  and  king's  officer  though  he  is,  shall  be  on  his 
knees  before  he  finds  time  to  swing  his  staff.  You  tell  him 
that  about  the  shilling.  If  you  will  not,  I  will  send  a  message 
by  another." 

"  I  will  tell  him.  Now  go  away,  Aaron,  lest  you  say  some- 
thing which  would  anger  me  still  more." 

So  he  went  away.  But  Bess  told  her  lover,  who  laughed, 
and  said  that  Aaron  was  a  greedy  fellow  whom  there  was  no 
satisfying,  but  he  should  do  his  best  to  let  him  have  a  good 
shilling's  worth,  and  full  value  for  his  money. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

HORN   FAIR. 

THIS  conversation  happened  in  the  second  week  of  October. 
The  opportunity  of  repaying  the  shilling  occurred  on  the  18th 
of  that  month,  which  is  St.  Luke's  Day,  and  consequently  the 
first  day  of  Horn  Fair. 

All  the  world  has  heard  of  this  fair.  It  is  not  so  famous  a 
fair  as  that  of  St.  Bartholomew's,  the  humors  of  which  have 
been  set  forth  by  the  great  Ben  Jonson  himself.  It  has  never, 
like  that  fair,  been  honored  by  the  presence  of  the  Prince  of 
AVales ;  nor  has  so  ingenious  a  gentleman  as  Mr.  Harry  Field- 
ing ever  written  plays  to  be  acted  at  Horn  Fair,  as  he  hath  done 
for  Bartholomew.  Nor  is  it  as  good  for  trade  as  the  ancient 
Stourbridge  Fair.  Yet  for  noise,  ribaldry,  riot,  and  drunken- 
ness it  may  be  compared  with  any  fair  held  in  the  three  king- 
doms, even  with  the  old  May  Fair,  now  suppressed,  which  they 
say  was  the  abode  of  all  the  devils  while  it  lasted.  As  for 
trade,  there  is  never  anything  sold  there — neither  horses,  nor 
cattle,  nor  cloth,  nor  any  pretence  made  of  selling  anything, 
except  horns  and  things  made  of  horn,  with  booths  for  chil- 
dren's toys,  penny  whistles,  and  the  like,  gingerbread,  cockles, 
oysters,  and  so  forth,  together  with  strong  drink,  and  that  the 
worst  that  can  be  procured  of  every  kind. 

It  is  frequented  by  a  motley  crew,  consisting  of  a  noisy  Lon- 
don rabble  :  rope-makers  from  St.  George's,  Ratcliffe  Highway, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  147 

sail-makers  from  Limeliouse,  shipwrights  from  Rotherhithe, 
sailors  from  Wapping,  all  the  City  'prentices  who  can  get 
holiday,  the  shabby  gentry  of  the  King's  Bench  rules,  together 
with  a  sprinkling  of  beaux  and  gallants  who  come  here  to  riot. 
Hither  flock  also  a  great  concourse  of  men  and  women  from 
the  country,  who  come  in  their  smock-frocks  and  new  white 
caps  to  drink,  dance,  look  on  and  gape,  bawl,  laugh,  and  play 
upon  each  other  those  rough  jokes  which  commonly  lead  to  a 
fight.  There  is  not,  in  fact,  anywhere  in  the  world  a  fair  which 
hath  a  more  evil  reputation  than  Horn  Fair.  Yet  I  dare  affirm 
that  you  shall  not  find  a  single  London  citizen  who  hath  not 
paid  one  visit  at  least  to  Horn  Fair ;  while  there  are  many  Lon- 
don dames — ay,  of  the  finest — who  have  been  tempted  by  the 
curiosity  of  their  sex,  and  in  order  to  see  the  humors  of  famous 
Horn  Fair,  have  dared  the  dangers  of  a  rabble  seeking  enjoy- 
ment after  their  kind,  and  in  the  manner  which  best  pleases 
their  brutish  nature. 

Yet  it  was  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and  among  such  people, 
that  the  lieutenant  was  called  upon  by  Aaron  to  redeem  his 
promise  and  to  fight  him  for  the  shilling;  and  although  he 
might  very  well  have  refused  to  answer  the  challenge  in  such  a 
place,  Jack  thought  it  incumbent  upon  his  honor  to  fight,  even 
though  it  should  be  like  a  Roman  gladiator  in  the  arena.  Had 
he  been  invited  to  take  a  glass  in  a  booth  at  the  fair,  or  to  eat 
hot  cockles  with  bumpkins,  he  would  have  treated  the  proposi- 
tion with  scorn ;  but  because  he  was  asked  to  fight,  his  honor, 
forsooth !  was  concerned,  and  he  must  needs  go — so  sacred  a 
thing  is  the  law  of  honor  concerning  the  duello.  No  doubt  in 
this  case  his  delicate  sense  of  honor  and  his  inclination  jumped, 
as  they  say,  and  he  was  by  no  means  displeased  to  try  his  cour- 
age, strength,  and  skill  against  so  doughty  a  champion  as  Aaron 
Fletcher.  Yet  I  do  not  think  there  was  another  officer  in  the 
king's  navy  who  would  have  done  what  he  did. 

All  sorts  of  ridiculous  stories  are  told  of  Horn  Fair  and  its 
origin,  with  a  foolish  legend  about  King  John,  which  I  pass 
over  as  unworthy  of  credence,  because  every  painter  who  hath 
studied  Italian  and  ecclesiastical  art,  and  the  symbolical  figures 
with  which  saints  are  represented,  knows  very  well  that  Luke 
the  Evangelist  was  always  figured  in  the  pictures  having  with 
him  the  horned  head  of  an  ox,  for  which  reason,  and  no  other, 


148  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

the  Charlton  Fair  was  called  Horn  Fair,  being  held  on  St.  Luke's 
Day.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  mob  cannot  be  taught  this — though, 
for  my  own  part,  I  know  not  why  an  ox  should  go  with  the  head 
of  St.  Luke — and  so  be  persuaded  to  carry  their  horns  soberly 
in  memory  of  the  saint  who  wrote  the  third  gospel. 

The  visitors,  if  the  day  is  fine,  begin  to  come  down  the  river 
as  early  as  eight  in  the  morning,  and  for  the  most  part  they  re- 
main where  they  land,  at  Cuckold's  Point,  Redriff,  eating  and 
drinking,  until  the  procession  is  formed,  which  starts  at  eleven 
or  thereabouts,  and  by  that  time  there  is  a  vast  crowd  indeed 
gathered  together  about  the  Stairs,  and  the  river  is  covered  with 
boats  carrying  visitors  from  London  Bridge,  or  even  from  Chel- 
sea. As  for  the  quarrels  of  watermen  and  the  splashing  of  the 
passengers  and  the  exchange  of  scurrilous  jokes,  abuse,  and  foul 
language,  it  passes  belief.  However,  the  passengers  mostly  get 
safe  to  the  Stairs  at  last,  and,  after  a  quarrel  with  the  watermen 
over  the  fare,  they  are  permitted  to  land.  Those  who  join  in 
the  procession  array  themselves  in  strange  garments  :  some  are 
dressed  like  wolves,  some  like  bears,  some  like  lions,  some 
again  like  wild  savages,  and  some  like  Frenchmen,  Spaniards, 
Russians,  or  the  lusty  Turk,  and  some  wear  fearful  masks ;  but 
all  are  alike  in  this  respect,  that  they  wear  horns  tied  upon  their 
heads  in  various  fashions.  The  women  among  them,  however, 
who  ought  rather  to  be  at  home,  do  not  wear  horns  upon  their 
heads,  but  masks  and  dominoes.  Those  who  can  afford  it  have 
ribbons  round  their  hats,  the  streaming  of  which  in  the  breeze 
greatly  gratifies  them ;  some  carry  flags  and  banners,  all  to- 
gether shout  and  bellow  continually,  and  the  procession  is  fol- 
lowed by  all  the  boys,  to  judge  from  their  number,  who  can  be 
found  between  Westminster  on  the  west  and  Woolwich  on  the 
east. 

This  magnificent  procession,  which  is  almost  as  good  as  the 
Lord  Mayor's  Show,  leaves  Rotherhithe,  headed  by  drum  and 
fife,  at  eleven  in  the  forenoon,  and  marches  through  Deptford, 
across  the  bridge  by  way  of  the  London  road,  through  Green- 
wich to  Charlton  Common. 

Jack  stood  with  me  at  the  gate  of  the  admiral's  house,  look- 
ing on  as  these  Tom  Fools  passed,  playing  their  antics  as  they 
went  along.  It  seemed  to  me  strange  that  a  man  of  his  rank 
should  take  any  pleasure  in  witnessing  the  humors  of  the  mob  ; 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN;          149 

but  I  thought  as  a  fool,  because  there  is  something  in  every 
sailor,  whether  he  be  an  officer  or  not,  which  makes  him  de- 
light in  singing  and  dancing,  and  causes  his  ears  to  prick  up  at 
the  sound  of  a  fiddle  or  a  fife.  Besides,  as  regards  this  sailor, 
it  was  six  years  and  more  since  he  had  seen  any  merry-making 
at  all,  unless,  which  I  know  not,  the  half-starved  Indians  who 
entertained  him  had  any  songs  and  dances  of  their  own. 

"  I  must  go  to  the  fair  this  afternoon,  Luke,"  he  said.  "  Will 
you  come  with  me,  lad  ?" 

"  What  will  you  do  at  the  fair,  Jack  ?  It  is  a  rude,  rough 
place,  not  fit  for  a  gentleman." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  last  time  we  went  ?  It  is  seven  years 
ago.  Ever  since  I  came  home  I  have  felt  constrained  to  visit 
again  the  places  where  we  used  to  play.  There  is  the  crazy 
old  summer-house  in  the  gardens.  I  have  been  there  again. 
The  place  is  not  yet  fallen  into  the  creek,  though  it  is  mor<j 
crazy  than  ever." 

"  And  Mr.  Brinjes's  parlor  ?     Have  you  been  there  ?" 

"  I  have  been  there,"  he  replied,  with  hesitation,  "  once  or 
twice — to  look  at  his  charts.  His  treasure  is  on  an  island  in 
the  North  Pacific,  whither  our  ship  did  not  sail.  Yes,  I  have 
been  there — to  see  his  charts,  in  the  evening.  In  the  afternoon 
he  sleeps,  and  must  not  be  disturbed." 

"And  now  you  must  needs  visit  Horn  Fair  again.  Well, 
Jack,  I  am  a  man  of  peace,  and,  very  like,  there  may  be  a  fight. 
So  take  with  you  a  stout  cudgel." 

"  There  is  another  reason  also  for  my  going,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  because  Aaron  Fletcher  will  play  all  comers  at  quarter-staff." 

"  Why,  Jack,  surely  you  would  not  play  with  Aaron  before 
all  this  mob  of  rustics  and  common  men  ?" 

"  I  must,  brave  boy.  For,  look  you,  Aaron  saved  my  life. 
There  is  no  question  about  that.  The  boat  must  have  gone 
down  in  half  an  hour,  and  I  with  it,  if  he  had  not  lugged  me 
out.  Therefore  if  he  asks  me  to  do  so  small  a  thing  as  to  fight 
him,  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  gratify  him,  and  to  fight  him  at 
such  place  and  in  such  manner  as  he  may  appoint.  I  prom- 
ised him  this,  and  now  he  sends  me  word  to  remind  me  of  my 
promise." 

"  But  the  man  is  a  giant,  Jack." 

"  He  is  a  strapping  fellow.     But  if  he  is  six  foot  four,  I  am 


150  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

six  foot  one  and  a  half.  His  reach  is  longer  than  mine,  it  is 
true.  But  do  not  be  afraid.  I  have  got  back  my  strength,  and 
I  think  I  shall  give  a  good  account  of  him.  However,  my  word 
is  passed  to  fight  him  when  he  wishes ;  and  whatever  happens 
I  must  go.  He  thinks  to  defeat  me  before  all  his  friends.  He 
is  a  braggart  fellow,  and  we  shall  see,  my  lad." 

We  walked  over  to  Charlton  after  dinner ;  Jack  in  his  lieu- 
tenant's uniform,  with  new  laced  ruffles  and  laced  shirt  and 
cravat,  very  noble.  He  carried  his  sword,  but,  following  my 
advice,  he  provided  himself  as  well  with  a  stout  cudgel,  in 
which,  I  confess,  I  placed  more  confidence  than  in  his  sword. 
For  why?  A  man  thinks  twice  about  using  a  sword  upon  a 
mob  as  he  would  upon  an  enemy,  but  an  oaken  cudgel  does  not 
generally  kill,  though  it  may  stun.  Therefore  he  lays  about 
him  lustily  if  he  have  a  cudgel,  and  spares  not. 

There  was  no  hurry  about  the  quarter-staff  play,  which  would 
not  begin  until  three  o'clock,  and  we  strolled  about  the  fair 
among  the  crowd,  looking  at  the  shows,  of  which  there  were 
many  more  than  I  expected  to  find.  But  Horn  Fair  is  happily 
placed  in  the  almanac,  so  that  the  people  who  live  by  shows, 
rope-dancing,  and  the  like,  can  go  from  Stepney  Fair  to  Charl- 
ton, and  so  from  Charlton  to  Croydon  Fair.  There  was,  to  be- 
gin with,  a  most  amazing  noise,  with  beating  of  drums,  blowing 
of  trumpets,  banging  of  cymbals,  ringing  of  bells,  dashing  of 
great  hammers  upon  the  boards,  whistling,  marrow-bones  and 
cleavers,  each  one  thinking  that  the  more  noise  he  made  the 
more  attractive  would  be  his  show.  The  booths  were  filled 
with  common  things,  but  these  gilded,  tied  with  bright  ribbons 
and  gay-colored  paper,  so  as  to  look  valuable,  and  with  wheed- 
ling girls,  in  tawdry  finery,  to  sell  them.  And  here  I  found 
that  my  companion  speedily  forgot  the  dignity  of  an  officer  and 
became  like  a  boy,  buying  things  he  did  not  want  because  some 
black-eyed  gypsy  girl  pressed  them  into  his  hand  with  a  "  Sure, 
your  honor  will  never  regret  the  trifle  for  a  fairing  for  your 
honor's  sweetheart.  A  proud  and  happy  girl  she  is  this  day, 
to  have  her  captain  home  again."  And  so  on,  he  laughing  and 
pulling  out  a  handful  of  silver  and  letting  her  take  as  much  as 
she  pleased,  whether  for  shoes,  pattens,  leather  breeches,  gin- 
gerbread, cheap  books,  or  toys  in  horn,  whatever  she  pleased  to 
sell  him.  Jack  bought  enough  of  everything  to  stock  a  found- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  151 

ling  hospital,  but  mostly  left  liis  purchases  on  the  stalls  where 
he  found  them,  or  gave  them  to  the  first  pretty  girl  he  met  in 
the  crowd.  There  certainly  is  something  in  the  air  of  the  sea 
which  keeps  in  a  man  for  a  long  time  the  eagerness  of  a  boy. 
A  London-bred  young  man  of  three-and-twenty,  which  was 
Jack's  age,  is  already  long  past  the  enjoyment  of  things  so 
simple  as  the  amusements  of  a  fair:  he  despises  the  shows, 
gauds,  and  antics  which  make  the  rustics  and  the  mechanics 
gape  and  laugh.  As  for  Jack,  he  must  needs  go  everywhere 
and  see  everything,  and  this  year  there  were  a  wonderful  num- 
ber of  shows. 

There  was,  for  instance,  the  young  woman  of  nineteen,  al- 
ready seven  feet  ten  inches  high,  and  said  to  be  still  growing, 
so  that  her  well-wishers  confidently  expected  that  when  she 
should  attain  her  twenty-fifth  year  she  would  reach  the  stature 
of  nine  feet,  or,  perhaps,  ten.  We  also  saw  the  bearded  woman. 
This  lusus  naturce,  or  sport  of  nature,  presented  for  our  admira- 
tion a  large  full  beard,  a  foot  long  and  more,  growing  upon  the 
whole  of  her  face,  cheeks,  chin,  and  lip,  so  that  her  mouth  was 
quite  hidden  by  it.  She  was  by  this  time,  unfortunately,  fully 
fifty  years  of  age,  and  her  beard  well  grizzled,  so  that  we  had 
no  opportunity  of  knowing  how  a  woman  in  her  youth  and 
beauty  would  look  with  such  an  ornament  to  her  face.  It  would 
then,  I  suppose,  be  soft  and  silky,  and  brown  in  color.  But 
perhaps  she  would  look  not  otherwise  than  a  comely  young 
man.  This  woman  was  a  great  strong  creature,  who  might 
have  felled  an  ox  with  her  fist ;  she  had  a  deep  voice  and  a 
merry  laugh,  and  made  no  opposition  when  Jack  offered  her  a 
cheerful  glass.  We  saw  the  Irish  giant,  also,  who  was  a  mighty 
tall  fellow,  but  weak  in  the  knees ;  and  the  strong  woman  who 
tossed  about  the  heavy  weights  as  if  they  had  been  made  of 
pasteboard,  and  lifted  great  stones  with  her  hair.  And,  since 
where  there  are  giants  there  must  also  be  dwarfs,  we  saw  the 
Italian  Fairy,  a  girl  of  sixteen,  no  taller  than  eighteen  inches, 
and  said  to  be  a  princess  in  her  own  country.  It  has  been  re- 
marked by  the  curious  that  whereas  giants  have  always  some- 
thing in  their  carriage  and  demeanor  as  if  they  were  ashamed 
of  themselves,  so  dwarfs,  on  the  other  hand,  are  the  most  vain- 
glorious and  self-conceited  persons  imaginable.  This  little 
creature,  for  instance,  dressed  in  a  flowered  petticoat  and  a 


152  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

frock  of  sarsnet,  walked  about  her  stage,  carried  herself  and 
spoke  with  all  the  airs  of  a  court  lady  or  a  fine  city  madam, 
though  where  she  learned  these  arts  I  know  not.  As  for  other 
shows,  there  was  a  menagerie  wherein  were  exhibited  a  cas- 
sowary, a  civet  cat,  a  leopard,  and  a  double  cow — a  cow,  that 
is,  with  one  head  and  two  fore-legs,  but  four  hind-legs.  There 
was  a  theatre,  where  they  performed  the  Siege  of  Troy  in  a  very 
bold  and  moving  manner,  and  with  much  shouting  and  clashing 
of  swords,  though  the  performance  was  hurried,  on  account  of 
the  impatience  of  those  without.  There  were  lotteries  in  plenty, 
where  one  raffled  for  spoons  of  silver  and  rings  of  gold ;  but  as 
for  us,  though  we  essayed  our  fortune  everywhere,  we  got  noth- 
ing. There  was  a  fire-eater,  who  vomited  flames  and  put  red- 
hot  coals  into  his  mouth ;  there  was  excellent  dancing  on  the 
slack-rope,  which  is  always  to  me  the  most  wonderful  thing  in 
the  world  to  witness;  there  was  a  woman  who  danced  with 
four  naked  swords  in  her  hands,  tossing  and  catching  them, 
presenting  them  to  her  breast,  and  all  with  so  much  fire  and 
fury  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  were  resolved  and  determined  to 
kill  herself.  Jack  rewarded  her  after  the  dance  with  a  crown 
and  a  kiss,  both  of  which  she  received  with  modesty  and  grati- 
tude. There  was  also  a  ladder-dance,  in  which  a  young  man 
got  upon  a  ladder  and  made  it  walk  about,  and  climbed  up  to 
the  top  of  it  and  over  it,  and  sat  upon  the  topmost  rung,  and 
yet  never  let  it  fall — a  very  dexterous  fellow. 

"  Why,"  said  Jack,  presently,  "  what  have  you  and  I  learned, 
Luke,  that  can  compare  with  the  things  which  these  people  can 
do  ?  Grant  that  I  know  the  name  and  place  of  every  bit  of  gear 
in  a  ship,  and  that  you  can  paint  a  boat  to  the  life,  what  is  that 
compared  with  dancing  on  the  slack-rope  or  balancing  a  ladder 
as  this  fellow  does  it  ?" 

At  the  time  I  confess  I  was,  like  Jack,  somewhat  carried  away 
by  the  sight  of  so  much  dexterity,  and  began  to  think  that  per- 
haps showmen,  mountebanks,  and  jugglers  have  more  reason 
for  pride  than  any  other  class  of  mankind.  Afterwards  I  re- 
flected that  the  wisdom  of  our  ancestors  has  always  held  in  con- 
tempt the  occupations  of  buffoon  and  juggler,  so  that,  though 
we  may  acknowledge  and  even  praise  their  dexterity,  we  are 
not  called  upon  to  envy  or  admire  them. 

Outside  the  booths,  and  apart  from  the  theatres  and  shows, 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          153 

there  was  a  stage,  on  which,  at  first  sight,  one  only  discerned  a 
fiddler,  a  fifer,  a  drummer,  and  a  fellow  dressed  in  yellow  and 
black,  with  a  long  tin  trumpet.  This  was  the  stage  of  the  great 
High  German  Doctor ;  his  name  I  have  forgotten,  but  it  was  a 
very  high  and  noble-sounding  one.  There  were  tables  on  the 
stage,  and  beside  the  musicians  were  the  doctor's  zanies,  who 
tumbled  and  postured,  and  danced  the  tight-rope,  and  his  shell- 
grinders  and  compounders,  every  one  of  whom,  in  turn,  ha- 
rangued and  bamboozled  the  mob.  As  for  the  doctor  himself, 
he  was  not  at  first  on  the  stage  at  all ;  but  presently  the  man 
with  the  tin  trumpet  blew  a  horrid  blast,  and  bawled  out, 
'  Room  for  the  doctor,  gentlemen  !  Room  for  the  doctor  1"  and 
the  people  parted  right  and  left,  while,  mounted  on  a  black 
steed,  that  learned  person  rode  very  slowly  towards  the  stage. 
The  saddle  was  covered  with  red  velvet ;  it  was  provided  with 
a  kind  of  lectern,  on  which  was  a  big  folio  volume,  which  the 
doctor  was  reading,  paying  no  heed  to  the  crowd,  as  if  no  mo- 
ment could  be  spared  from  study.  A  fellow  dressed  in  crim- 
son led  the  horse.  The  doctor  was  a  tall  and  stout  man,  with 
an  extraordinary  dignity  of  carriage  and  solemn  countenance, 
dressed  in  a  gown  of  black  velvet  and  crimson  velvet  cap,  like 
unto  the  cap  of  a  Cambridge  medicines  doctor.  Then  the  man 
with  the  tin  trumpet  hung  out  a  placard  upon  the  stage,  on 
which  was  the  great  man's  style  and  titles,  and  these  he  bel- 
lowed forth  for  the  information  of  those  who  could  not  read. 
We  learned,  partly  from  the  placard  and  partly  from  this  fel- 
low, that  the  great  man  was  physician  to  the  Sophy  of  Persia 
and  to  the  Great  Mogul,  tooth-drawer  to  the  King  of  Morocco, 
and  corn-cutter  to  the  Emperor  of  Trebizonde,  the  Grand  Turk, 
and  Prester  John ;  that  he  was  the  seventh  son  of  a  seventh 
son ;  that  it  was  seven  days  before  he  sucked,  seven  months 
before  he  cried,  and  seven  years  before  he  uttered  a  single 
word,  so  long  was  this  wonderful  genius  in  preparing  for  his 
duties.  As  for  his  medical  studies,  we  were  told  that  they  had 
occupied  his  attention  for  five  times  seven  years,  in  the  cities 
of  London,  Leyden,  Ispahan,  Trebizonde,  and  Constantinople, 
and  that  he  was  at  that  moment  twelve  times  seven  years  of 
age,  without  a  gray  hair  or  a  missing  tooth,  and  with  children 
not  yet  three  years  old,  so  efficacious  were  his  own  medicines, 
as  proved  upon  himself ;  while  his  servants  never  knew  an  ill- 
7* 


154  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ness  nor  even  an  ailment  (the  drummer,  I  observed,  had  his 
face  tied  up  for  a  toothache).  When  this  fellow  had  done 
the  music  began,  and  the  zanies  tumbled  over  each  other, 
and  turned  somersaults,  while  the  mixers  of  the  medicines 
bawled  out  jokes  and  made  pretence  to  swallow  their  pills. 
Finally  the  doctor  himself  stood  before  us,  and  made  his  ora- 
tion. 

"  Gentlemen  all,"  he  said,  "  I  congratulate  you  on  your  good- 
fortune  in  coming  to  Horn  Fair  this  day,  for  it  is  my  birth- 
day ;  and  on  this  anniversary  I  give  away  my  priceless  medi- 
cines for  no  greater  charge  than  will  pay  for  the  bottles  and 
boxes  in  which  they  are  bestowed.  On  all  other  days  they  are 
sold  for  their  weight  in  gold.  I  have  here  " — he  held  up  a 
plaster — "  the  Cataplasma  Diabolicum,  or  Vulnerary  Decoction 
of  Monkshood,  which  heals  all  wounds  in  twenty-four  hours  if 
applied  alone ;  if  taken  with  the  Electuary  Pacific — show  the 
Electuary,  varlets ! — it  heals  in  a  couple  of  hours.  I  have  the 
Detersive,  Renefying,  and  Defecating  Ophthalmic,  which  will 
cure  cataracts  and  blindness,  and  will  cast  off  scales  as  big  as 
barnacles  in  less  than  a  minute.  I  have  for  earache,  toothache, 
faceache,  and  tic  a  truly  wonderful  vegetable,  an  infusion  of 
peony,  black  hellebore,  London-pride,  and  lily-root.  Here  is 
a  bottle  of  Orvietans,  for  the  expulsion  of  poison,  price  one 
shilling  only.  Here  is  the  Balsamum  Arthriticum ;  here  the 
Elixir  Cephalicum,  Asthmaticum,  Nephriticum,  et  Catharticum. 
Gentlemen,  there  is  no  disease  under  the  sun  " — here  the  trum- 
peter blew  the  tin  trumpet — "  but  I  can  cure  it.  Rheumatics  " — 
bang  went  the  drum — "Asthma" — bang  went  the  drum  be- 
tween every  word — "  Gout — Sciatica — Lumbago — Pleurisy — 
Melancholy ;  in  a  word,  there  is  nothing  that  I  cannot  cure  at 
a  quarter  the  cost  of  your  town  doctors.  No  more  disease, 
gentlemen,  no  more  pain ;  step  up  and  try  the  Cataplasma  Dia- 
bolicum, the  Electuary  Pacific,  the  Detersive  Ophthalmic,  and 
the  Vegetable  Infusion.  Step  up  and  buy  the  medicines  that 
will  make  and  keep  you  in  hearty  good  health,  so  that  you  shall 
live  to  a  hundred  and  fifty — ay,  even,  with  care,  to  two  hundred 
and  fifty — knowing  neither  age,  sickness,  nor  decay." 

The  people  laughed  incredulously,  and  yet  believed  every 
word,  which  I  suppose  will  always  be  the  case  with  the  mob, 
and  began  to  push  and  shove  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to 


:  Room  for  the  doctor,  gentlemen  !    Room  for  the  doctor  !' 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  155 

buy  the  wonderful  medicines.  For  his  part,  Jack  listened  open- 
mouthed. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  what  fools  we  are,  Luke,  to  let  this  for- 
eign fellow  go,  who  hath  so  many  secrets !  Why  do  not  we 
keep  him  and  get  his  secrets  out  of  him,  and  so  let  there  be  no 
more  sick-lists  to  be  kept  ?" 

Then  he  would  have  gone  on  the  stage  and  bought  every- 
thing the  doctor  had  to  sell,  but  I  dissuaded  him,  pointing  out 
that  the  fellow  was  only  an  impudent  impostor. 

And  before  every  show  were  ballad-singers  bawling  their 
songs.  Their  principal  business  at  fairs  is  not,  I  am  told,  to 
sell  their  ballads  so  much  as  to  attract  a  crowd  and  engage 
their  attention  while  the  scoundrel  pickpockets  go  about  their 
business  unwatched  (one  was  caught  in  the  fair  while  we  were 
there,  and,  for  want  of  a  pump,  was  put  head  first  into  a  tub  of 
cold  water,  and  kept  there  till  he  was  wellnigh  drowned) ;  and 
everywhere  there  were  men  who  grinned  and  postured,  girls 
who  danced,  boys  who  walked  on  stilts,  gypsies  who  told  fort- 
unes, women  bawling  brandy-balls  and  hot  furmety ;  there  was 
the  hobby-horse  man,  with  his  trumpet  and  his  "  Troop,  every 
one,  one,  one  !"  and  a  hundred  more,  too  numerous  to  mention. 
And  for  food,  they  had  booths  where  they  sold  hot  roast  pork, 
with  bread  and  onions  and  black  porter — a  banquet  to  which 
the  gentry  at  the  fair,  whose  stomachs  are  not  queasy,  did  infi- 
nite justice. 

We  saw  so  many  shows  and  booths,  and  Jack  appeared  so 
contented  and  happy  in  looking  at  them,  that  I  confess  I  was 
in  hopes  he  would  forget  his  promise  to  fight  Aaron,  the  pros- 
pect of  which,  in  this  fair,  crowded  with  the  rudest  and  rough- 
est men,  pleased  me  less  every  moment.  But,  if  you  please, 
his  honor  was  concerned.  Therefore,  when  the  hour  approached, 
he  remembered  it — to  be  sure,  one  might  be  expected  to  re- 
member a  promise  to  meet  and  to  fight  so  big  a  man  as  Aaron 
Fletcher — and  he  cast  about  in  order  to  find  the  amphitheatre 
or  booth  where  the  duello  was  to  be  held.  We  presently  found 
it,  on  the  skirts  of  the  fair,  and  a  little  retired  from  the  noise. 
It  proved  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  square  enclosure  of  canvas, 
fastened  to  upright  poles,  with  no  roof.  Those  who  came  to 
see  the  sport  paid  an  admission  fee  of  one  penny.  Within  the 
booth  there  were  rough  benches  set  along  the  sides,  and  in  the 


156  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

middle  a  broad  stage  two  feet  high.  There  was  music  playing 
as  we  went  in,  and  on  the  stage  a  little  girl  of  ten  dancing  very 
prettily  and  merrily.  The  place  was  filled ;  I  knew  many  of 
the  faces :  those,  namely,  of  the  Deptford  men,  come  to  stand 
by  their  champion.  It  appeared  as  if  they  knew  what  was  go- 
ing to  take  place,  for  at  the  sight  of  the  lieutenant  there  were 
passed  around  looks  and  nods  and  every  indication  of  heartfelt 
joy.  Drawers  ran  about  with  tankards  and  mugs  of  ale,  and 
most  of  the  men  were  accommodated  with  pipes  of  tobacco. 
There  were  also  some  women  present,  and  of  what  kind  may 
be  easily  imagined.  Sufficient  to  say  that  they  were  fit  com- 
panions of  the  men.  The  people  did  not  greatly  care  for  the 
dance,  which  was  too  simple  and  innocent  for  them.  When 
the  little  girl  finished  and  jumped  down  from  the  stage  there 
came  forward  a  scaramouch  dressed  in  the  Italian  fashion,  who 
played  a  hundred  tricks,  posturing  and  twirling  his  legs  about 
as  if  they  had  been  without  bones  or  joints.  But  the  people 
were  impatient,  and  bawled  for  him  to  have  done.  Wherefore 
he  too  retired,  and  then  they  roared  for  Aaron  Fletcher,  the 
Deptford  men  being  foremost  in  their  desire  for  his  appearance. 
He  leaped  upon  the  stage,  therefore,  quarter-staff  in  hand, 
stripped  to  his  shirt,  and  twirling  his  weapon  over  his  head  as 
if  it  had  been  a  little  walking-cane.  Then  the  place  became 
hushed,  as  happens  when  there  is  going  to  be  a  fight  of  any 
kind,  because  fighting  goes  to  the  heart  of  every  man,  and 
makes  him  serious  and  anxious  at  the  beginning,  but  full  of 
fury  as  the  fight  goes  on.  Aaron  was  a  terrible  great  fellow 
to  look  at,  thus  stripped  of  his  coat  and  standing  on  the  stage 
before  us  all. 

"  I  challenge  the  best  man  among  ye,"  he  said,  looking  at  the 
lieutenant,  "  gentleman  or  clown,  king's  officer  or  able  seaman, 
for  a  guinea  or  a  groat,  as  ye  please." 

Then  he  twirled  his  staff  again,  and  walked  round  the  stage, 
like  a  game-cock  before  the  battle. 

"  Shall  I  give  him  a  chance  with  the  meaner  kind  first,  to 
show  his  mettle  and  to  breathe  him  ?"  said  Jack.  "  'Twould 
be  charitable." 

There  sprang  upon  the  stage  from  the  crowd  a  stout  and 
lusty  youth,  not  so  tall  as  Aaron,  but  of  good  length  of  limb 
and  resolute  face.  'Twas  the  champion  of  Eltham,  as  we 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  157 

learned  from  the  crowd.  He  was  clad  in  a  smock-frock,  which 
he  laid  aside. 

"  I  will  play  a  bout  for  a  crown,"  he  said,  lugging  out  the 
money,  while  his  friends  shouted. 

Then  they  began ;  but,  Lord  !  the  countryman  was  no  match 
for  the  Deptf ord  player,  and  the  shouting  of  our  townsmen  was 
loud  to  see  the  play  that  Aaron  made,  and  the  dexterity  with 
which  his  staff,  as  quick  as  lightning,  played  on  his  adversary's 
head  and  ribs,  his  legs  arid  arms.  So  that  very  soon,  throwing 
down  his  staff,  the  fellow  leaped  from  the  stage,  and  would 
have  no  more. 

"It  was  pretty,"  said  Jack.  "The  rustic  hath  had  his  les- 
son." 

Then  another;  this  time  one  who  had  played  and  won  at 
Bartholomew  Fair,  and  now  advanced  with  confidence,  trusting 
to  his  activity  and  the  rapidity  of  his  attack,  which  were,  in- 
deed, astonishing.  But,  alas !  his  leaps  and  bounds  were  of 
little  avail  against  the  long  reach  and  the  heavy  hand  of  the 
giant,  and  he  fell  to  rise  no  more. 

Then  the  mob  roared  and  shouted  again. 

"  This  fellow  is  soon  satisfied,"  said  Jack.  "  It  is  my  turn 
now." 

He  laughed,  and  took  off  coat,  waistcoat,  and  hat,  giving 
them  to  me  for  safety.  Thus  reduced  to  his  shirt,  he  stepped 
forward  and  mounted  the  stage,  the  crowd  being  overjoyed  and 
beyond  themselves  in  the  anticipation  of  a  fight  between  their 
champion  and  a  gentleman  in  laced  ruffles,  white-silk  stockings, 
and  powdered  hair.  Certainly  nothing  so  good  as  this  had  ever 
before  been  seen  at  the  fair. 

Then  I  became  aware  of  a  strange  thing.  There  stood  with- 
in the  door — not  sitting  down,  but  standing — just  within  the 
folds  of  the  canvas,  no  other  than  Bess  Westmoreland  and  her 
father.  Who  would  have  thought  to  see  the  penman  at  Horn 
Fair  ?  Nothing  could  be  more  out  of  place  than  this  pair  among 
the  waterside  men  and  the  ruffians  in  the  booth.  Bess  stood 
upright,  holding  her  father's  hand,  not  for  her  own  protection, 
but  to  assure  him  of  his  safety,  while  he,  stooping  and  round- 
shouldered,  looked  about  him,  as  if  fearing  violence  of  some 
kind.  I  now  perceived  that  Bess  was  come  for  no  other  pur- 
pose than  to  see  this  fight ;  to  be  sure,  it  was  arranged  before- 


158  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

hand,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  hear  of  it 
from  Aaron ;  but  I  had  not  thought  Bess  would  have  come  to 
such  a  place  to  see  such  a  sight.  I  declare  I  had  not  the  least 
suspicion  of  the  truth,  so  carefully  had  the  lovers  kept  their 
secret.  Bess  took  no  notice  at  all  of  the  rabble,  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  stage  as  if  the  people  were  not  even  present ;  no  great 
lady  waiting  at  the  door  of  the  theatre  for  her  chair  could  look 
more  proudly  upon  the  common  herd — the  linkboys,  chairmen, 
and  lookers-on — as  if  they  were  beneath  her  notice.  Her  lips 
were  set,  and  her  brow  contracted,  and  her  cheek  was  pale ; 
but  I  knew  not  the  cause,  unless  it  were  from  terror  at  the  ap- 
proaching battle.  Yet  why  did  she  come  to  see  it  ? 

She  came,  as  I  learned  soon  afterwards,  confident  in  her  lov- 
er's triumph,  and  anxious  to  increase  the  discomfiture  of  his  ad- 
versary and  her  rejected  suitor.  Since  that  day  I  have  ceased 
to  wonder  why  the  Roman  ladies  and  matrons  took  pleasure  in 
witnessing  the  fights  of  gladiators,  and  why,  in  the  days  of  tour- 
naments, gentle  ladies  went  to  see  their  lovers  tilt.  The  joy  of 
battle,  I  am  sure,  is  as  great  in  the  heart  of  woman  as  in  that 
of  man.  Certainly  no  one  in  the  crowd  watched  the  combat 
with  more  eagerness  and  interest  than  did  Bess,  whose  eyes 
flashed,  lips  parted,  and  bosom  heaved  with  the  passion  of  the 
fight.  As  for  her  father,  in  the  hush  before  the  battle  began  I 
heard  him  exclaim,  "  It  is  the  lieutenant  and  Aaron !  Oh,  dear, 
dear !  they  will  do  each  other  some  grievous  harm.  Bess,  ask 
them  to  desist.  Is  it  for  this  you  brought  me  here,  wilful  girl  ? 
Grievous  bodily  hurt  they  will  do  to  each  other." 

No  one  paid  any  heed  to  that  poor  man.  Even  the  drawers 
ceased  to  run  about  with  tankards,  and  no  man  called  for 
drink. 

Jack  took  the  quarter-staff,  which  had  already  been  used 
twice  ineffectually,  poised  it  in  his  hands,  and  turned  a  smiling 
face  to  his  adversary. 

"  I  have  kept  my  promise,  Aaron,"  he  said ;  but  this  the  mob 
did  not  hear.  "We  will  fight  for  that  shilling.  Bess  is  in 
the  doorway,  looking  on.  It  seems  as  if  we  were  fighting  for 
more  than  a  shilling,  does  it  not  ?" 

Aaron  made  no  reply  in  words,  but  he  laughed  aloud.  Per- 
haps he  remembered  how,  seven  years  before,  when  last  he 
fought  with  Jack,  Bess  was  looking  on  at  his  defeat.  This 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  159 

time  he  was  confident  in  his  strength.  She  was  come  again, 
looking  to  see  him  worsted.  She  should  be  disappointed. 

There  was  no  lack  of  courage  about  the  man.  Courage  he 
had,  and  plenty.  He  was  a  good  three  inches  taller  than  his 
adversary,  which  at  quarter-staff  gives  a  great  advantage ;  he 
was  quick  of  eye  and  of  fence ;  he  was  heavier  and  stronger ; 
and  his  first  two  combats  had  scarcely  breathed  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  was  opposed  to  a  man  who  for  six  years  and 
more  had  led  the  hardest  life  possible,  with  no  indulgences — 
wine,  beer,  tobacco,  indolence,  or  anything  to  soften  his  mus- 
cles or  dim  the  eye.  Now  Aaron,  as  everybody  knew,  was  fond 
of  a  glass,  and  though  no  sot,  once  a  week  or  so  was  drunk. 
And  he  had  already  begun  to  put  on  flesh.  As  they  stood  face 
to  face  one  might  have  gone  a  hundred  miles  and  never  seen 
so  fine  a  couple. 

And  then,  at  tap  of  drum,  the  fight  began,  and  for  a  while 
everybody  was  mute. 

Jack,  I  perceived,  was  resolved  at  first  to  stand  on  the  de- 
fensive, for  two  reasons.  First,  because  his  enemy  showed 
wrath  in  his  scowling  eyes,  and  therefore  would,  perhaps,  spend 
his  breath  and  strength  in  furious  onslaught.  Next,  because, 
as  he  told  me  afterwards,  it  was  not  until  he  held  the  weapon 
in  his  hands  that  he  remembered  he  had  not  played  for  four 
years  and  more.  One  would  think  he  might  have  remembered 
so  important  a  fact  before.  It  is  an  admirable  custom  in  some 
ships  for  the  crew,  both  officers  and  men,  to  amuse  themselves 
daily  at  quarter-staff,  single  stick,  and  boxing ;  but  Jack  had 
been  out  of  a  ship  for  four  years.  Still,  if  his  hand  was  a  little 
out,  his  eye  was  true.  Aaron's  game  was  twofold.  First,  he 
would  beat  down  and  overpower  his  man  by  superior  strength 
and  advantage  in  reach ;  and,  secondly,  by  feints  and  leaps, 
shifting  his  ground,  and  changing  the  length  of  his  weapon, 
by  coming  to  close  quarters  and  then  retreating,  to  cheat  his 
adversary's  eye  and  disconcert  him  even  for  a  single  moment, 
when  he  would  deal  him  a  decisive  stroke.  This  was  a  very 
good  design,  and  hath  often  served.  But  Jack  was  not  to  be 
so  caught.  No  man  at  quarter-staff,  however  strong,  can  beat 
down  an  adversary  who  has  learned  the  art  of  parry,  which  is 
more  than  half  the  battle ;  no  man,  however  quick  and  active, 
can  disconcert  an  enemy  who  knows  how  to  follow  his  eyes 


160  THE    WORLD   WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

steadily.  Jack,  therefore,  lost  no  ground,  and  was  never  touched ; 
so  that,  though  he  delivered  no  stroke,  the  ease  with  which  he 
met  Aaron's  blows  presently  caused  the  spectators  to  roar  with 
admiration.  In  all  kinds  of  fighting  there  are  two  first  princi- 
ples, or  rules,  to  be  carefully  learned.  The  first  of  these  is 
never  to  lose  sight  of  your  enemy's  eye,  and  the  next  is  never 
to  lose  your  temper.  A  third  is  to  know  how  to  strike  when 
the  occasion  comes.  If  a  man  at  this  rough  game  chance  to 
lose  his  temper  he  loses  the  game.  This  is  what  Aaron  did. 
It  maddened  him  that  he  could  not  strike  his  enemy,  and  it 
maddened  him  still  more  to  hear  the  roars  of  the  people  at  the 
dexterity  which  defeated  him.  Moreover,  he  knew  that  Bess 
was  looking  on ;  therefore  he  became  more  furious,  and  deliv- 
ered his  blows  more  rapidly,  but  with  less  precision.  "  Don't 
fight  wild,  Aaron,"  shouted  his  friends,  but  too  late  ;  while  the 
fellows  in  the  booth  began  to  jeer  and  laugh  at  him,  asking 
why  he  did  not  strike  his  man,  with  a  "  Now,  Aaron !  now's 
your  turn!  Hit  him  on  the  head.  There's  a  brave  stroke 
missed,"  and  so  on,  foreseeing  that  if  the  lieutenant  could 
only  keep  cool  and  wait  for  his  chance  the  victory  would  be 
his. 

Jack  told  me  afterwards  that  while  they  played  the  old  skill 
came  back  to  him,  and  his  confidence,  so  that  he  could  afford 
to  play  with  his  man  and  bide  his  time,  receiving  all  the  blows, 
whether  at  full  length,  half  length,  or  close  quarters,  with  pa- 
tience and  good  temper. 

This  strange  duel,  in  which  one  man  struck  and  the  other  only 
parried,  lasted  long ;  insomuch  that  the  spectators  left  off  shout- 
ing, and  looked  on  with  open  mouths.  It  lasted  so  long  that 
Aaron  was  now  raging  and  foaming,  breathing  heavily,  and 
plunging  as  he  struck  with  the  staff.  As  for  me,  I  wondered 
why  Jack  did  not  strike.  He  had  his  reason ;  he  wished  to 
strike  but  once,  and  therefore  he  waited.  At  last  the  chance 
came.  Aaron  left  his  head  exposed,  and  then,  with  a  thud 
which  might  have  been  heard  outside  the  booth,  the  lieuten- 
ant's staff  resounded  on  the  side  of  his  enemy's  head,  and  Aaron 
fell  prone  upon  the  stage — senseless. 

It  is  said  that  when  a  gentleman  fights  a  common  fellow  the 
mob  is  always  pleased  that  the  gentleman  shall  be  victorious. 
I  know  not  if  this  be  true,  but  I  know  that  the  fellows  in  the 


THE    WORLD   WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  161 

booth  rose  as  one  man,  even  the  Deptford  men,  and  cheered 
the  victor  to  the  sky. 

Jack  stepped  from  the  stage,  a  little  heated  by  the  fight,  and 
put  on  his  coat,  waistcoat,  and  hat. 

"  Aaron  is  a  very  pretty  player,"  he  said,  "  but  he  should  not 
have  challenged  me  until  he  was  in  better  condition.  There 
were  half  a  dozen  poor  fellows  aboard  the  Countess  of  Dorset 
who  would  have  beaten  him.  Here,  my  lads" — he  now  became 
again  an  officer — "Aaron  is  a  Deptford  man,  like  me.  Take 
care  of  him,  and  spend  this  guinea  in  drinking  the  king's 
health." 

So  the  fellows  tossed  their  greasy  caps  in  the  air,  and  the 
tapsters  tied  their  apron-strings  tighter,  and  began  to  run  about 
with  tankards  and  mugs  while  the  guinea  was  drinking  out, 
and  Jack  strode  down  the  booth,  the  men  making  a  lane  for 
him,  and  crying,  "  Huzza !  for  the  noble  captain  !"  Meanwhile 
no  one  took  any  notice  of  the  fallen  champion,  who  presently 
recovered  some  of  his  senses,  and  sat  up,  staring  about  him 
with  distracted  eyes. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Westmoreland,"  said  Jack,  at  the  door,  as  if  he 
had  not  seen  him  before,  "  you  at  Horn  Fair  ?  I  might  as  soon 
have  expected  to  see  you  at  Vauxhall." 

"  Nay,  sir,  your  honor  knows  I  value  not  such  merriment. 
But  Bess  would  bring  me  here.  'Tis  a  wilful  girl.  Nothing 
would  serve  her  but  she  must  see  the  humors  of  the  fair.  Girls 
still  crave  for  mirth," 

"You  ought  to  be  at  home  among  your  books,  Mr.  West- 
moreland. Go  home.  Luke  will  walk  with  you,  and  I  will  take 
care  of  Bess — good  care,  good  care — and  bring  her  safe  home 
after  she  has  seen  the  fair.  Come,  Bess,  will  you  see  the  wild 
beasts  or  the  slack-rope  dancers  ?  Take  him  home,  Luke ;  take 
him  home." 

So  saying,  he  seized  Bess  by  the  hand  and  drew  her  away, 
leaving  the  old  man,  her  father,  with  me.  I  observed  that 
though  Bess  cried  "  Oh  !"  and  "  Pray,  lieutenant,"  and  "  Don't, 
lieutenant,"  and  "  Fie,  lieutenant,"  she  laughed,  and  took  his 
hand  without  any  reluctance,  but  rather  a  visible  satisfaction, 
because  she  had  certainly  got  the  properest  man  in  all  the  fair. 

"  The  lieutenant,"  said  Mr.  Westmoreland,  "  is  strong  enough 
to  protect  any  girl ;  though,  as  for  Bess,  Mr.  Luke,  she  is  strong 


162  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

enough  to  protect  herself.  Nevertheless" — he  broke  off  and 
sighed — "  nevertheless,  a  motherless  girl  is  a  great  charge  for  a 
peaceful  man,  especially  when  she  is  strong  and  determined,  like 
my  Bess.  What  am  I  to  do,  sir  ?  I  cannot  whip  and  flog  her ; 
1  cannot  lay  my  commands  upon  her  if  she  doth  not  choose  to 
obey  me.  I  cannot  make  her  marry  if  she  still  says  nay.  And 
the  men,  they  are  afraid  of  her  pride  and  wilfulness.  Such  a 
headstrong  girl  will  never  make  an  obedient  wife." 

"  It  is  a  situation,  Mr.  Westmoreland,"  I  said,  "  full  of  dan- 
ger." 

"What  is  worse,  Mr.  Luke,"  he  went  on — "what  is  worse 
is  that  she  scorns  the  man  Aaron  Fletcher  himself — a  substan- 
tial man,  though  they  do  say  he  knows  the  coast  of  France. 
Yet  he  would  cheerfully  take  the  risk  of  her  masterful  temper 
and  her  wilful  ways  if  she  would  but  say  yea." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Westmoreland,  as  for  that,  I  am  sure  there  are 
plenty  of  men  ready  to  be  fired  by  such  charms  as  your  daugh- 
ter Bess  possesses." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Charms?  I  know  not  what  they  are.  Black  hair  and 
black  eyes  may  please  some,  but  I  know  not  whom.  Let  us 
go  from  this  wicked  and  riotous  place,  Mr.  Luke.  Peaceful 
men  have  no  place  here.  The  lieutenant  will  bring  her  home ; 
though,  more  likely  than  not,  they  will  quarrel  on  the  way, 
both  of  them  being  masterful,  and  Bess  will  have  to  find  her 
way  back  without  him.  Yet  she  ought  to  be  proud  of  the  hon- 
or he  hath  done  her,  and  perhaps  she  will  be  meek  for  once, 
and  behave  pretty." 

So  we  turned  and  made  our  way  out  of  the  throng,  and  so 
home. 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Westmoreland,  presently  —  "I  am 
very  sorry  that  Mr.  Easterbrook  hath  fought  and  vanquished 
Aaron  Fletcher.  I  would  rather  have  seen  Aaron  the  con- 
queror." 

"Why?" 

"Because  Aaron  is  a  cruel  and  a  vindictive  man.  He  was 
bragging  among  his  friends  of  the  sport  they  would  witness  at 
the  fair,  and  he  has  been  humiliated.  Now  he  will  have  his 
revenge,  if  he  can,  for  the  disgrace  put  upon  him  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  friends ;  and  Bess  hath  been  at  the  fair  with  the 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  163 

lieutenant,  and  I  know  not  what  will  happen.  He  is  a  revenge- 
ful man,  Mr.  Luke  ;  and,  unhappily,  he  is  in  love  with  Bess,  and 
wants  to  marry  her — a  thing  that,  with  my  experience,  I  cannot 
understand.  Well,  it  is  a  terrible  thing,  a  terrible  thing,  for  a 
peaceful  man  like  me  to  have  such  a  daughter.  A  humble  man 
should  pray  for  ugly  daughters,  who  are  also  meek  and  obedi- 
ent. They  may  wait  for  their  beauty  till  they  get  to  heaven. 
I  want  nothing  but  peace,  Mr.  Luke,  so  that  I  may  continue  my 
studies  in  algebra  and  logarithms,  for  which  end,  and  no  other, 
unless  it  be  the  furtherance  of  goodly  writing,  I  was  sent  into 
this  troubled  world." 

The  next  day  I  learned  from  Jack  that  he  had  taken  Bess  to 
every  show  at  the  fair ;  that  he  had  given  her  as  noble  a  supper 
as  the  place  afforded  ;  that  he  had  fought  and  overthrown  three 
fellows  who  waylaid  them  on  the  road  home,  and  would  have 
robbed  him  of  his  money  as  well  as  his  fair  charge ;  and  that 
he  safely  convoyed  her,  about  midnight,  to  her  father's  door. 
The  admiral  heard  of  the  evening's  adventure,  and  laughed, 
saying  that  Bess  was  a  lucky  girl  to  get  such  a  proper  fellow 
to  show  her  the  fair.  But  I  do  not  think  that  either  Jack  or 
the  admiral  related  the  story  of  the  fight  and  the  subsequent 
doings  to  madame  and  Castilla. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IN    THE    SUMMER-HOUSE. 

I  AM  a  dull  person  in  suspecting  or  guessing  at  passages  of 
love.  Yet  I  had  seen  Bess  dragging  her  father  to  Horn  Fair 
in  order  to  witness  the  fight,  and  I  marked  the  flash  of  triumph 
in  her  eyes  when  Aaron  fell,  and  the  unconcealed  pleasure  with 
which  she  accompanied  the  victor. 

On  Sunday  morning,  a  day  or  two  after  the  fair,  another 
thing  happened  which  ought  to  have  made  me  suspect.  It  was 
in  church.  Soon  after  the  service  of  Morning  Prayer  began  I 
observed  an  unwonted  agitation  among  the  feminine  part  of  the 
congregation,  and  presently  discovered  that  the  eyes  of  all  were, 
with  one  consent,  directed  upon  a  certain  seat  in  the  north 
aisle,  occupied  by  Bess  Westmoreland  and  her  father.  The 


164  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

reason  of  this  phenomenon  was  that  Bess  had  come  to  church  at- 
tired in  a  very  fine  new  frock  made  of  nothing  less  than  sarsnet, 
with  a  flowered  petticoat,  a  lawn  kerchief  about  her  neck,  and 
a  hat  trimmed  with  silk  ribbons,  so  that  among  the  women 
around  her  in  their  scarlet  flannel,  and  the  girls  in  their  plain 
camblet,  linsey-woolsey,  and  russet,  she  looked  like  a  rose  among 
the  weeds  of  the  hedge.  Few  of  the  gentlewomen  in  the 
church  were  more  finely  dressed.  As  to  them,  their  eyes  plain- 
ly said,  if  eyes  can  speak,  "  Saw  one  ever  such  presumption  ?" 
And  as  for  the  baser  sort,  they  first  gazed  with  admiration  and 
envy  unspeakable,  and  then  sniffed  and  tossed  their  heads,  as  if 
nothing  would  have  induced  them  to  put  on  such  fine  things ; 
and  then  they  looked  at  each  other,  each  with  the  same  question 
trembling  on  her  tongue,  each  one  longing  to  ask  aloud,  "  Who 
gave  her  the  things  ?"  For  there  is  some  strange  quality  in  the 
female  conscience  (I  mean  only  in  a  seaport  town)  which  en- 
ables every  girl  to  accept  joyfully  and  gratefully  whatever  a  man 
may  give  her,  and  at  the  same  time  to  flout  and  scorn  all  other 
girls  for  doing  the  same  thing ;  so  that  what  is  a  virtue  in  her- 
self must  be  a  clear  sign  of  immodesty  or  forwardness  in  an- 
other. 

One  would  not  deny  that  the  girl  was  worthy  of  blame ;  for 
though  there  are  no  longer  sumptuary  laws,  yet  every  woman 
knows  how  far  she  may  in  decency,  and  with  due  regard  to 
her  station,  carry  her  love  of  finery.  Bess,  however,  wore  these 
things  not  of  her  own  will,  but  by  desire  (say,  rather,  command) 
of  a  certain  person.  There  is,  again,  nothing  strange  in  a  Dept- 
ford  girl  suddenly  appearing  in  the  colors  of  a  rainbow,  especial- 
ly after  a  ship  has  been  paid  off,  though  very  soon  the  silks  and 
satins  go  to  the  Jews  who  buy  second-hand  clothes,  together 
with  the  trinkets  and  the  ribbons ;  and  madame  returns  to  her 
russet  frock,  her  blue  apron,  and  speckled  handkerchief.  But 
this,  which  is  of  daily  occurrence  among  the  common  sailors' 
wives,  one  would  not  expect  of  a  respectable  girl,  such  as  Bess. 
It  is  quite  certain,  and  one  must  not  excuse  her  conduct,  that 
she  should  not  have  ventured  to  church  thus  attired.  Yet  I,  for 
one,  was  ready  to  forgive  her,  first  because  she  looked  so  mar- 
vellously beautiful  in  these  fine  feathers,  and  next  because  she 
bravely  bore  the  artillery  of  these  eyes,  and  held  herself  tall 
and  upright,  looking  straight  before  her,  as  if  no  one  was  gaz- 


THE  WORLD   WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  165 

ing  at  her,  and  as  if  she  wore  what  belonged  to  her.  Women 
are  your  true  levellers :  they  have  no  respect  for  rank :  even  a 
peer  is  but  a  man  to  them,  and  a  countess  is  but  a  woman.  They 
are  ready  to  measure  their  own  beauty  beside  that  of  any  lady 
in  the  land ;  there  is  no  girl,  however  lowly,  who  would  refuse, 
for  conscience'  sake,  the  honorable  attentions  of  a  gentleman ; 
and  the  silly  creatures,  I  am  told,  whisper  continually  to  each 
other  tales  of  humble  girls  raised  to  the  condition  of  princesses. 

There  was  another  person  in  the  church  besides  myself  who 
seemed  as  if  leniency  and  readiness  to  forgive  this  presumption 
possessed  his  heart  as  well.  This  was  the  lieutenant,  who,  from 
his  place  in  the  admiral's  pew  (the  corner  nearest  the  reading- 
desk,  with  his  back  to  the  altar),  regarded  the  girl  steadfastly 
during  the  whole  service,  insomuch  that  I  feared  lest  madame 
or  Castilla  herself  should  observe  it,  and  be  offended  at  so  in- 
decent a  proof  of  admiration  in  divine  service.  But  Castilla 
did  not  discover  it,  partly  because  she  hath  never  been  able  to 
understand  how  a  gentleman  can  regard  a  common  girl  with  ad- 
miration (she  still  considers  that  Jack's  passion  for  Bess  was 
caused  by  the  sorcery  and  craft  of  Mr.  Brinjes),  and,  therefore, 
was  not  likely  to  suspect  such  a  thing ;  and  partly  because  Cas- 
tilla's  eyes  in  church  were  always  fixed  upon  her  book,  as  she 
followed  the  words  of  the  service,  or  they  were  humbly  dropped 
upon  her  lap  during  the  sermon,  as  if  she  closely  followed  the 
argument,  and  was  being  convinced  by  my  father's  reasoning. 
Now,  as  hath  been  already  explained,  the  vicar's  sermons  were 
written  for  the  perusal  of  scholars  rather  than  for  the  under- 
standing of  the  unlearned. 

The  service  over,  we  walked  out  in  due  order,  and  so  by  the 
gate  into  Church  Lane,  as  we  had  done  on  that  day,  three  weeks 
before,  when  our  prodigal  came  home  to  us  in  rags.  And  then, 
after  a  little  talk,  we  separated,  Jack  going  with  the  admiral's 
party,  and  I  returning  to  the  vicarage  for  dinner. 

After  dinner,  the  afternoon  being  warm  and  sunny,  I  took  my 
hat  and  walked  leisurely  towards  those  gardens  of  which  I  have 
already  spoken,  where  were  the  orchards  of  plum,  pear,  apple, 
and  cherry,  and  where  the  old  summer-house  overlooked  the 
creek.  It  would  be,  I  thought,  pleasant  in  the  gardens  with  no 
one  but  myself,  and  I  could  walk  about  among  the  trees,  watching 
the  gray  lichen  on  the  bark  and  the  sober  tints  of  the  autumnal 


166  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

leaves,  and  perhaps  find,  in  the  view  of  the  Greenwich  Reach, 
something  new  to  observe  and  note.  One  whose  profession  is 
to  paint  ships  of  all  kinds  can  never  grow  weary  of  watching 
them,  whether  at  anchor  or  in  motion ;  just  as  one.  who  paints 
figures  loves  to  be  forever  contemplating  the  human  figure, 
whether  in  action  or  repose. 

The  .air  was  still  and  soft,  the  day  warm,  although  it  was  al- 
ready the  twentieth  day  of  October.  The  fruit  was  all  picked 
now,  and  the  leaves  beginning  to  dry  at  their  stalks,  because 
the  leaves  of  apple,  plum,  and  cherry  do  not  turn  brown,  but 
drop  off  while  they  are  yet  green  ;  yet  the  green  is  quite  another 
hue  than  that  presented  in  spring  and  summer,  and  I  wonder 
that  no  painter  has  painted  the  greens  of  autumn,  as  well  as  the 
yellow,  red,  and  brown.  I  have  myself  attempted  a  sketch  in 
April,  showing  parts  of  that  long  stretch  of  garden  all  the  way 
from  these  gardens  to  Greenwich  Hospital,  which  at  that  sea- 
son look  like  a  vast  cloud  of  white  and  pink  blossom  resting 
on  the  green  branches  which  here  and  there  peep  out. 

This  afternoon  the  tide  was  high.  There  was  moored  close 
to  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and  on  the  opposite  bank,  a  barge, 
which,  with  its  brown  sail  lowered,  its  thick  mast,  and  its  hang- 
ing ropes,  formed  so  pretty  a  set-off  to  the  trees  of  the  orchard 
beyond  that  I  stood  awhile  to  gaze  upon  it.  I  have  drawn 
many  barges,  below  the  bridge  at  Wapping  Stairs,  and  in  Chel- 
sea Reach,  and  in  other  places,  but  I  never  drew  any  prettier 
picture  than  that  of  the  barge  in  the  creek  at  high  tide,  the 
woods  behind  it ;  only,  as  artists  can,  I  made  a  change.  For  I 
presently  sketched  the  barge,  and  waited  until  the  following 
spring,  when  I  painted  a  background  of  apple  and  cherry  or- 
chards in  blossom. 

Well,  when  I  had  looked  at  my  barge  and  made  a  note  of  it, 
and  of  one  or  two  other  things,  being  in  a  leisurely  mood,  and 
quite  certain  that  I  was  alone  in  the  garden,  I  lifted  the  latch 
of  the  summer-house  door  and  walked  in. 

I  declare  that  I  suspected  nothing.  If  I  had  known  who 
were  in  the  place  I  should  have  beat  a  drum,  or  blown  a  trum- 
pet, or  fired  a  cannon,  to  announce  my  approach,  sooner  than 
steal  thus  unawares  upon  them.  But  I  did  nothing,  and  pushed 
the  door  open  without  ceremony.  Heavens !  There  was  Bess 
Westmoreland,  her  head  upon  Jack's  shoulder,  while  his  hand 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  167 

clasped  her  waist  and  his  lips  kissed  her  cheek !  Who  would 
have  suspected  this  ?  I  was  so  surprised  that  I  stood  speech- 
less, I  dare  say  with  mouth  wide  open,  as  one  sees  on  the  stage, 
where  gestures  of  all  kinds  are  exaggerated.  Yet  not  so  amazed 
but  I  saw  what  a  pretty  picture  they  made,  he  in  his  blue  coat 
and  crimson  sash,  and  his  hat  with  the  king's  cockade  ;  she  in  the 
pretty  frock  for  which  the  women  were  now  railing  at  her  be- 
hind her  back.  A  young  man  and  a  beautiful  girl  embracing 
cannot  but  make  a  pretty  picture.  As  for  this,  I  made  a  sketch 
in  oils  six  months  later.  Bess  stood  to  me  for  her  portrait  very 
willingly  when  I  promised  that  the  picture  should  be  given  to 
her  sweetheart  when  he  should  return.  As  for  the  lieutenant, 
I  got  a  fellow,  for  a  shilling  or  two,  to  stand  in  the  attitude  I 
wanted,  while  the  face  I  drew  from  memory,  with  the  assistance 
of  Bess.  I  painted  them  in  the  summer-house,  and  through 
the  window  you  can  see  a  ship  slowly  going  down  the  river. 
For  a  reason,  which  you  will  presently  learn,  I  never  gave  that 
picture  to  Jack ;  and,  for  my  own  reason,  I  have  not  sold  it,  but 
keep  it  hung  up  at  home  in  my  studio,  though  Castilla  loves  it 
not,  and  will  never,  if  she  can  help  it,  look  upon  it — perhaps  be- 
cause the  picture  renders  scant  justice  to  the  beauty  of  Bess, 
whose  flushed  cheeks,  parted  lips,  and  heaving  bosom  I  en- 
deavored, but  perhaps  with  insufficient  success,  to  portray  upon 
the  canvas.  Nor,  I  am  aware,  is  justice  done  to  the  passion  ex- 
pressed in  the  lover's  eyes,  in  his  bending  head,  nay,  even  in 
the  arms  with  which  he  held  the  nymph  to  his  heart. 

"  Zounds !"  cried  Jack,  as  Bess  screamed  and  started,  and 
pushed  him  back,  and  sunk  upon  the  bench,  her  face  in  her 
hands.  "  Zounds  and  fury !"  He  stepped  forward,  his  fists 
clinched,  fire  and  distraction  in  his  eyes.  He  was  so  carried 
away  with  his  wrath  that  he  did  not  at  first  even  recognize  me, 
and  made  as  if  he  would  draw  his  sword  and  make  an  end  of  me. 

"  Why,  Jack,"  I  cried,  "  I  knew  not  thou  wert  here  !  How 
should  I  know?" 

Upon  this  he  let  fly  a  round  dozen  or  so  of  sailors'  oaths, 
such  as  may  be  heard  in  Flagon  Row  or  Anchorsmith  Alley, 
sound  and  weighty  oaths,  every  one  more  profane  than  its  prede- 
cessor. The  language  of  the  fo'k'sle  is,  we  know,  readily  and 
greedily  acquired  by  every  officer,  and  is  too  often  adopted  as 
his  own  to  the  end  of  his  days. 


168  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  I  knew  not,  Jack,  indeed,"  I  repeated,  "  that  any  one  was 
here.  What  ?  Should  I  spy  on  your  actions  ?  As  for  what  I 
have  seen — " 

"  Let  me  go,  Jack  !"  cried  Bess ;  "  oh,  let  me  go !  He  will 
tell  my  father,  who  will  send  me  away  for  a  servant.  And  per- 
haps he  will  tell  Aaron,  who  would  murder  you,  if  he  could, 
without  being  hanged !  Oh,  Jack  !  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"  I  shall  tell  no  one,  Bess,"  I  said.  "  Why,  it  is  no  business 
of  mine  to  go  repeating  what  I  have  seen  accidentally.  Am  I 
the  town  barber  ?" 

Jack  looked  doubtfully ;  then  he  laughed. 

"  Cheer  up,  Bess,"  he  said ;  /"  no  harm  is  done.  Luke  will 
never  betray  an  old  friend.  He  came  here  to  draw  the  ships, 
which  is  all  he  thinks  about.  He  will  go  away,  and  he  will  for- 
get all  about  it." 

"Nay,"  I  said,  "I  shall  not  forget.  But  I  shall  hold  my 
tongue." 

"  I  won't  trust  no  one — only  you,  Jack,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Hark  ye,  Luke — "  Jack  drew  her  closer  to  himself,  and  laid 
his  arm  round  her  neck — "  hark  ye,  lad.  Thou  hast  discovered 
what  was  not  meant  for  thee — nor  for  any  one — to  know.  That 
signifies  nothing  for  a  lad  of  honor.  But  for  Bess's  sake, 
swear  it.  Take  an  oath  on  it." 

"I  swear,  Bess,"  I  declared  to  her,  "that  I  will  speak  no 
single  word  of  what  I  have  seen  and  learned.  If  there  were  a 
Bible  here,  I  would  kiss  the  book  to  please  you.  You  may 
trust  me,  Bess." 

"You  may,  indeed,  Bess,"  said  Jack.  "Hands  upon  it 
lad." 

So  we  shook  hands,  and  in  all  that  followed  afterwards  I  told 
nobody  what  had  happened ;  and  the  thing  was  so  managed  that 
it  was  never  suspected  by  any  one  except  Aaron.  It  seems 
wonderful  that  no  one  in  Deptford  found  it  out,  because  it  is  a 
place  where  one  half  the  women  are  continually  employed  in 
watching  and  spying  upon  the  other  half,  and  find  their  chief 
happiness  in  detecting  things  which  it  was  desired  to  keep  secret, 
forgetting  that  others  are  employed  in  exactly  the  same  inquiry 
after  their  secrets.  Just  so  one  hath  observed  a  row  of  monkeys 
in  cages,  each  thieving  from  one  neighbor's  dish  while  the  other 
steals  from  his. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  169 

"  Trust  all  or  none,  Luke,"  said  Jack.  "  Thou  shalt  know  all, 
and  be  a  witness  between  us.  Listen.  I  have  told  Bess  that 
I  love  her,  and  that  when  I  come  home  again  I  will  marry  her. 
If  I  had  not  fallen  in  love  with  so  much  beauty  and  loveliness,  I 
should  have  been  a  most  insensate  wretch,  unworthy  to  be  called 
a  man.  Was  there  ever  a  more  charming  nymph  ?"  He  kissed 
her  again,  while  her  great  eyes  swam  with  the  pleasure  of  so  much 
praise.  "  Thou  shalt  paint  her  for  me,  Luke.  And  as  for  Bess, 
she  says  that  she  loves  me.  I  believe  she  lies,  because  how 
such  a  girl,  so  soft  and  tender,  can  love  a  rough  sea-bear  like 
me,  who  knows  none  of  the  ways  to  please  a  woman,  passes  un- 
derstanding. But  she  says  she  does,  and  I  will  question  her 
further  upon  this  point  when  thy  great  ugly  phiz  is  no  more 
blocking  up  the  gangway.  And  she  will  not  believe  that  I  am 
in  earnest,  Luke.  That  is  my  trouble  with  her.  She  will  have 
that  I  shall  go  away  and  forget  her,  as  many  sailors  do." 

"  So  he  will,"  said  Bess.  "  They  all  go  away  and  forget  the 
girls  who  loved  them.  And  then  I  shall  break  my  heart  and 
die  ;  if  I  don't,  I  shall  hang  myself." 

"  So,  Luke,  listen  and  be  a  witness.  What  do  I  care  who  her 
father  is  ?  Such  a  girl  deserves  to  be  the  daughter  of  a  com- 
modore. Talk  not  to  me  of  gentlewomen  born.  Where  is  there 
any  woman,  gentle  or  simple,  with  such  eyes  as  Bess,  such  lips 
as  Bess,  such  hair  as  Bess  ?"  I  declare  he  kept  kissing  her  at 
each  sentence,  she  making  no  manner  of  resistance.  "  So  I  will 
swear  to  her,  in  thy  presence,  Luke,  to  make  it  more  solemn, 
and  to  make  her  believe  my  word.  I,  Jack  Easterbrook  " — he 
took  her  hand  at  this  point,,  as  if  he  were  actually  marrying  her 
in  church,  and  by  the  minister  or  priest — "  I,  Jack  Easterbrook, 
do  solemnly  promise  and  vow  that  I  will  never  make  love  to 
any  other  woman  and  never  marry  any  other  woman  than  Bess 
Westmoreland,  and  that  I  will  never  think  of  any  other  woman 
at  home  or  in  foreign  parts.  First,  I  must  get  commissioned ; 
and  then,  when  the  war  is  over,  I  will  come  back  and  marry  my 
Bess.  Kiss  me  again,  girl.  This  is  my  solemn  promise  and 
oath,  in  which  I  will  not  fail,  SO  HELP  ME  GOD  !" 

I  have  often  since  that  day  wondered  at  the  amazing  force  of 
the  passion  which  could -make  so  young  a  man  call  down  upon 
himself  the  awful  vengeance  of  offending  Omnipotence  if  he 
broke  a  vow  of  constancy  towards  a  girl  he  had  seen  but  twice 


170  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

or  thrice  ;  for  I  count  as  nothing  the  time  when  she  was  a  child, 
nnd  he  came  to  her  father  for  lessons. 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words  his  eyes  grew  dim  with  tender- 
ness, and  he  stooped  and  kissed  the  girl  on  her  forehead,  as  if 
to  seal  and  consecrate  the  vow.  As  for  her,  she  was  trans- 
figured. I  could  not  believe  that  love  could  so  powerfully 
change  a  woman's  face.  She  had  reason  for  triumph ;  but  it 
was  not  triumph  in  her  eyes ;  rather  was  it  a  kind  of  humble 
pride — a  wondering  joy  that  so  gallant  a  man  should  love  her, 
with  a  doubt  whether  it  was  not,  after  all,  a  passing  fancy,  and 
a  fear  that  she  should  not  fix  his  affections. 

"  Oh  !"  she  sighed — "  oh,  Jack !"  and  could  find  no  more 
words. 

"  Bess,"  I  said,  "  vows  ought  not  to  be  all  on  one  side.  If 
Jack  promises  so  much,  what  hast  thou  to  promise  in  thy 
turn?" 

"  Tell  me  what  to  say.  Oh  !  I  am  only  a  poor  girl.  What 
can  I  promise  him  ?  I  am  so  ignorant  that  I  do  not  know  what 
to  promise.  Jack,  do  you  want  me  to  say  that  I  will  be  faith- 
ful ?  No — you  cannot.  Why,  is  there  any  man  in  the  world 
to  compare  with  you?  If  a  woman  cannot  be  true  and  con- 
stant to  you,  she  cannot  be  true  to  any  man.  As  for  the  rest 
of  them,  I  value  not  one  of  them  a  brass  farthing.  Oh  !"  she 
laughed  and  clasped  her  hands.  "  Why,  I  am  content  to  be  his 
slave,  Luke — yes,  his  slave,  to  toil  and  work  for  him  all  day  long 
— his  slave — his  servant — "  She  fell  on  her  knees  before  him. 
"  Oh,  Jack,  command  me  what  you  please !  I  want  nothing 
more  than  to  obey  your  orders." 

Wonderful  it  was  how  love  made  this  ignorant  and  wilful 
girl  at  once  eloquent  and  humble.  Jack  lifted  her  up,  and  held 
her  by  both  hands. 

"  You  are  a  king's  officer,  Jack,"  she  went  on,  speaking  rap- 
idly. "  I  must  try  so  that  you  shall  not  be  ashamed  of  your 
wife.  I  am  but  the  daughter  of  a  penman,  I  know.  He  writes 
letters  for  sailors,  and  teaches  mathematics  to  midshipmen  and 
young  sailor  officers,  if  there  are  any.  But  I  have  time  to  learn, 
and  I  will  find  out  how  to  bear  myself  like  a  gentlewoman,  and 
to  talk  like  one,  and  to  dress  myself  as  a  gentleman's  wife  ought 
to  dress  herself.  I  will  make  my  father  teach  me  to  read  and 
to  write,  and  as  for  manners — I  will  go  to  Mr.  Brinjes.  lie  will 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          171 

do  anything  in  the  world  for  you,  Jack,  and  for  the  woman  of 
your  choice." 

One  could  not  choose  but  laugh  at  thinking  of  Mr.  Brinjes  as 
a  teacher  of  polite  manners  and  conversation.  He  had  learned 
the  most  approved  fashion,  no  doubt,  among  the  Mandingoes 
and  the  Coromantyns.  Yet  the  earnest  and  serious  manner  in 
which  the  girl  spoke  made  the  matter  moving.  However, 
enough  was  said,  and  I  offered  to  go,  but  she  caught  me  by  the 
hand. 

"Stay,  Luke,"  she  whispered.  "Jack,  some  of  you  break 
your  vows ;  but  you  will  not,  Jack — you  will  not  ?  As  for  me, 
I  need  not  promise,  for  I  cannot  choose  but  be  true  to  mine." 

She  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast,  and  I  left  them,  shutting 
the  door,  and  going  very  softly. 

"  In  the  evening  I  saw  Jack  again. 

"  Luke,"  he  said,  "  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  the  world,  be- 
cause I  have  got  the  best  girl  in  the  world.  What  do  I  care 
that  her  father  is  but  a  penman  ?  What  does  it  signify  that 
she  cannot  read  or  write  ?  Reading  does  no  good  to  any  girl 
that  ever  I  heard  of,  but  fill  her  head  with  fond  desires.  But 
one  thing  sticks :  when  I  am  away  who  will  keep  the  men  from 
her  ?  There  is  Aaron  Fletcher — him  I  knocked  on  the  head ;  I 
wish  I  had  beaten  out  his  brains  for  him.  They  tell  me  he  is 
mad  for  love  of  her,  though  she  would  never  say  a  word  to 
him.  I  doubt  I  may  have  to  fight  him  again  before  I  go.  To 
be  sure,  Mr.  Brinjes  promises  to  protect  her ;  but  he  is  old  and 
feeble." 

"  Why,"  I  said,  "  he  will  protect  her  by  the  fear  with  which 
he  is  regarded.  One  must  needs  respect  a  man  who  can  scatter 
rheumatics  among  those  who  offend  him." 

However,  I  presently  promised  him  that  in  his  absence  I 
would  sometimes  visit  the  girl,  and  comfort  her,  and  keep  up 
her  heart ;  although  if  it  came  to  a  fight  with  Aaron,  he  was 
able  to  work  me  to  an  anvil,  as  they  say,  with  fist  or  cudgel. 

Then  I  begged  him  to  consider  seriously  what  he  was  about 
to  do.  First,  that  he  was  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  rank,  who 
might  look  to  marry  a  gentlewoman ;  next,  that  he  had  no 
fortune,  and  as  yet  no  prize-money,  and  only  a  lieutenant's  half- 
pay  ;  and  lastly,  that  if  he  married  he  was  likely  to  lose  the 
admiral's  favor. 


172  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Truly,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  considered  all  these  things." 
I  don't  believe  that  he  had  considered  one  of  them  before  that 
moment.  "  And  I  am  resolved  that  there  is  no  other  happiness 
but  in  marrying  Bess.  As  for  duty,  it  points  the  same  way,  be- 
cause I  am  promised  to  her.  When  duty  and  inclination  point 
the  same  way,  my  lad,  what  room  is  there  left  for  doubt  ?  An- 
swer me  that.  Why,  if  I  lived  a  thousand  years,  I  should  never 
love  any  other  woman  as  I  love  my  Bess.  What  puzzles  me," 
he  went  on,  "  is  why  the  landsmen  haven't  fallen  in  love  with 
her  long  ago.  None  of  your  mincing,  mealy-mouthed  fine 
ladies,  all  patches  and  powder,  made  up  so  that  you  know  not 
what  they  are  like  with  hoop  and  petticoat,  but  an  honest  lass, 
true  and  loyal — you  can  see  what  she  is  like,  for  she  wears 
neither  hoop  nor  powder — and  she  tells  no  lies,  and  you  know 
her  mind  directly  she  speaks.  That  is  the  girl  for  me,  Luke. 
Hang  me  if  I  understand  why  she  wasn't  long  ago  the  girl  for 
you." 

"  Fortunately  for  me,"  I  said,  "  your  inclinations  and  mine 
are  not  set  on  the  same  woman." 

"  Why,  if  I  had  been  in  your  place,  Luke,  I  would  have  car- 
ried off  the  girl,  if  I  could  have  got  her  in  no  other  way.  If 
she  were  to  change  her  mind  now,  and  to  refuse  me,  I  would 
carry  her  off,  whether  she  liked  it  or  not.  There  would  be  a 
prize  to  tow  into  port,  and  all  for  myself,  Luke — all  for  my- 
self!" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IN     BUTCHER     ROW. 

"  AARON,"  Mr.  Westmoreland  said,  "  is  a  cruel  and  revenge- 
ful man." 

Afterwards  I  remembered  these  words.  For  my  own  part  I 
did  not  understand  this  judgment,  though  I  had  known  Aaron 
all  my  life,  first  as  a  great  hulking  boy,  and  then  as  the  strong- 
est and  biggest  man  in  Deptford.  On  what  grounds  did  Mr. 
Westmoreland  consider  him  cruel  and  revengeful  ?  The  judg- 
ments of  weak  and  timid  men,  like  those  of  women,  are  shrewd 
and  often  true.'  Yet  Aaron  had  done  nothing  of  which  the 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          173 

world  knew  on  account  of  which  he  could  be  called  cruel  and 
revengeful.  Masterful  and  headstrong  he  was,  and  the  world 
accounted  him  a  brave  man,  but  not  revengeful.  The  present 
moment,  however,  was  likely  to  bring  out  whatever  evil  passions 
lay  in  his  soul,  for  he  had  been  publicly  humiliated  and  brought 
to  shame  by  the  man  who  had  taken  from  him  the  woman  he 
loved ;  and  when  he  met  his  friends  in  the  street  they  seemed 
to  be  laughing  in  their  sleeves  at  him.  Therefore  Aaron  con- 
ceived an  act  of  revenge  which  was  as  audacious  as  it  was  vil- 
lainous. If  he  was  revengeful,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  was 
also  bold. 

He  first  showed  his  teeth  on  the  Monday  morning  after  the 
fight  at  Horn  Fair.  Bess  was  engaged  in  making  a  beefsteak 
pudding  for  dinner,  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  singing  over  her 
work.  Her  father  sat  at  his  desk  before  the  window  bent  over 
his  work,  with  round  spectacles  on  nose,  undisturbed  by  his 
daughter's  singing.  A  sudden  diminution  of  the  light  caused 
both  to  look  up.  Aaron  Fletcher's  great  body  was  blocking  up 
the  doorway. 

"  Bess,"  he  said,  roughly,  "  come  out  to  me." 

" Good-morning,  Aaron/'  said  Mr.  Westmoreland.  "The 
weather  still  holds  up,  and  keeps  fine  for  the  season.'7 

"  Come  out,  Bess,"  he  repeated,  taking  no  notice  of  her  father. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  say  to  me,  Aaron  ?  If  it  is  the  old 
thing — " 

"  No,  it  is  not  the  old  thing.     Come  out,  I  say." 

She  obeyed,  rolling  her  apron  over  her  bare  arms,  and  came 
out  into  the  street,  her  father  looking  after  her,  apprehensive 
of  mischief. 

"Well,  Aaron?" 

He  looked  upon  her  with  love  in  his  eyes,  had  she  been  able 
to  perceive  it,  and  to  be  moved  by  such  a  gaze.  But  she  had 
no  pity  for  him,  and  no  feeling. 

"  It  is  not  the  old  story,  Bess,"  he  said.  "  As  for  that,  I've 
had  my  answer.  What  I  came  to  say  was  this.  I  asked  a 
simple  question — twenty  times  I  asked  that  question.  7Twas 
not  only  by  reason  of  thy  good  looks,  Bess — though  they  go 
for  something — 'twas  because,  of  all  the  Deptford  girls,  there 
was  none  so  quiet  and  so  steady.  Well,  the  time  has  come 
when  no  honest  man  will  ask  thee  that  question  again." 


174  THE    "WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Have  a  care,  Aaron,"  she  replied,  with  naming  cheek,  be- 
cause she  knew  what  he  meant  very  well.  "  Have  a  care, 
Aaron.  You'd  best." 

"  Bess,  it  is  because  I  love  thee  still  that  I  came  to  say  this. 
No  one  else  will  say  it,  though  they  may  all  think  it.  You 
were  with  him  at  the  fair  all  the  evening.  It  was  not  till  nigh 
upon  midnight  that  he  brought  thee  home.  Is  that  an  hour  for 
a  respectable  girl  ?  You  meet  him  secretly  at  the  apothecary's 
every  day.  Therefore  I  say  again — Bess — beware." 

"  Oh !  If  I  were  to  tell  him,"  she  "began ;  "  if  I  were  only 
to  tell  him  what  you  have  dared  to  say !" 

"  Nay — tell  him  all.  I  care  not  a  brass  button.  Tell  him 
I  said  he  is  fooling  thee.  I  will  tell  him  that  to  his  face. 
What  care  I  for  any  lieutenant  of  them  all  ?  He  to  marry  ? 
Why,  he  has  got  nothing.  He  is  fooling  thee.  Mischief  will 
come  of  it,  Bess.  Thou  art  too  low  for  him,  and  yet  too  high." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  pains,"  she  replied.  "  As  for  me,  I 
can  take  care  of  myself  even  if  all  the  world  should  take  to  spy- 
ing through  keyholes.  As  for  trusting  myself  with  the  lieuten- 
ant, I  think  I  am  safer  with  him  than  with  a  smuggler — yes,  a 
mere  tarpaulin  smuggler.  You  can  go,  Aaron.  'Tis  a  fine 
morning  for  a  run  down  the  river,  and  I  dare  say  a  sail  across 
the  Channel  will  do  you  good,  and  cure  the  headache  from  last 
Friday's  cudgelling.  But  take  care,  Aaron.  Some  day,  per- 
haps, we  may  see  thee,  if  thou  art  not  prudent,  dangling  in 
chains  over  there  " — she  pointed  to  the  Isle  of  Bogs,  where 
there  were  then  hanging  on  the  gibbets  three  poor  wretches — 
"  or  walking  after  a  cart-tail  with  the  whip  across  your  shoul- 
ders ;  or,  maybe,  marched  aboard  ship  in  handcuffs  for  the 
plantations.  Get  thee  gone,  meddler !" 

"  I  have  said  what  I  came  to  say.  As  for  thy  fine  lover,  Bess, 
he  crows  now,  but  it  will  be  my  turn  next,  and  that  when  he 
little  looks  for  it.  He  has  not  yet  done  with  me." 

She  laughed  scornfully,  and  returned  to  her  pudding,  toss- 
ing her  head,  and  murmuring  with  wrath  that  bubbled  and 
boiled  over  into  broken  words,  insomuch  that  her  father  trem- 
bled. 

As  for  Aaron,  he  stood  still  for  a  moment,  looking  wistfully 
after  the  girl.  I  think  he  bore  no  malice  on  account  of  the 
joy  with  which  she  witnessed  his  downfall ;  nay,  I  verily  be- 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          175 

lievc  that  this  morning  he  meant  the  best  for  her,  and  only 
mistrusted  the  lieutenant.  Then  he  turned  and  walked  slowly 
towards  the  town. 

Everybody  knows  that  there  are  streets  in  Deptford  where 
honest  and  sober  people  would  not  willingly  be  seen.  They 
are  the  resort  of  the  vile  creatures  which  infest  every  seaport 
town,  and.  rob  the  sailor  of  his  money.  Barnes  Alley,  French 
Fields,  and  the  Stowage  are  full  of  these  people,  the  best  of 
whom  are  oyster-wenches,  ballad-singers,  and  traders  in  smug- 
gled goods.  The  houses  are  chiefly  of  wood,  black  with  dirt ; 
every  other  door  hangs  out  the  checkers  as  a  sign  of  what  is 
sold  within.  Here  and  there  may  be  seen  the  lattice  of  the 
baker  or  the  pole  of  the  barber.  The  men  in  these  streets 
wear  for  the  most  part  fur  caps,  with  gray  woollen  stockings 
and  speckled  breeches.  Their  shoes  are  tied  with  scarlet  tape, 
and  they  are  never  without  a  cudgel.  The  women  have  flat 
caps,  blue  aprons,  and  draggled  petticoats.  The  talk  of  the 
people  corresponds  to  their  appearance.  One  of  these  streets 
is  called  Butcher's  Row.  In  the  midst  of  it,  on  the  north  side, 
stands  a  house  superior  to  the  rest,  having  an  upper  story  and 
a  sign  carved  in  wood  over  the  door — that  of  the  "  Hope  and 
Anchor."  There  is  a  broad  staircase  within,  also  rich  with 
wood-carving,  and  a  room  wainscoted  with  dark  oak,  where 
those  sit  who  drink  something  better  than  the  common  two- 
penny. 

Every  tavern  hath  its  own  class  of  frequenters ;  those  who 
use  the  Hope  and  Anchor  are  the  men  whom  custom-house 
officers,  the  clerks  of  the  navy  offices,  and  police  magistrates 
agree  in  regarding  with  suspicion.  They  are,  for  instance, 
men  who  have  dealings  with  smugglers,  yet  never  venture 
their  skins  across  the  Channel ;  men  who  traffic  in  sailors' 
tickets,  and  defraud  their  wives  of  their  pay ;  men  who  sell 
ship-stores  of  all  kinds,  and  are  modestly  reluctant  to  show 
where  they  got  them ;  men  who  buy  up,  before  the  navy  office 
is  ready  to  pay,  sailors'  prize-money ;  those  who  live  by  find- 
ing recruits  for  the  East  India  Company's  service,  and  keep 
crimps'-houses,  where,  according  to  some,  murder  is  as  com- 
mon as  drunkenness  and  theft. 

Into  that  house,  therefore,  Aaron  walked,  and,  without  any 
questions,  for  he  knew  the  place,  made  his  way  into  the  parlor, 


176  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

where  was  sitting  a  man  who,  to  judge  by  his  friendly  greet- 
ing, expected  him.  He  was  seated  beside  the  fireplace,  where, 
though  it  was  a  sunny  day  and  warm  for  the  season,  a  great 
coal-fire  was  burning.  He  was  provided  with  a  tankard  of 
small  ale  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  though  it  was  still  the  fore- 
noon, when  industrious  men  have  not  begun  to  think  of  tobac- 
co. In  appearance  he  was  about  fifty  years  of  age ;  his  cheeks 
were  purple  and  his  eyes  were  fiery ;  his  neck  was  swollen ;  as 
for  his  nose,  it  was  battered  in  the  bridge,  so  that  the  original 
shape  of  it  could  no  longer  be  guessed.  And  there  was  a  deep 
red  scar  across  his  cheek,  which  might  be  a  glorious  proof  of 
valor  in  some  great  action,  and  might  also  be  a  mark  by  which 
to  remember  some  midnight  brawl.  He  wore  a  scratch-wig  and 
a  brown  coat  with  metal  buttons,  worsted  stockings,  and  a  muf- 
fler about  his  neck. 

This  man  was  a  familiar  figure  in  Deptford,  whither  he  came 
by  boat  once  a  month  or  so  for  the  transaction  of  business. 
The  nature  of  his  business  was  not  known  for  certain,  and 
there  were  different  reports.  It  was  whispered  by  some  that 
he  stood  in  with  Aaron  Fletcher,  receiving  and  selling  for  him 
those  cargoes  of  his  which  he  brought  across  the  Channel  and 
landed  on  the  coast  of  Essex ;  by  others  it  was  said  that  he 
ventured  on  his  own  account ;  and  again,  it  was  whispered  by 
some  that  he  was  a  government  spy,  who  ought  to  have  his 
ears  sliced ;  and  by  others  that  he  procured  information  for  the 
navy  office  when  there  was  going  to  be  a  press,  and  therefore, 
if  justice  was  done,  should  be  carbonadoed.  All  this  might 
have  been  true.  What  every  one  could  observe  with  his  own 
eyes  was,  that  he  bought,  and  paid  a  good  price  for,  all  those 
things  which  sailors  bring  with  them  from  foreign  ports,  such 
as  embroidered  cloths,  brass  pots,  figures  in  china,  silver  orna- 
ments and  idols,  or  even  living  creatures,  as  hyenas,  wolves, 
monkeys,  parrots,  mangooses,  lemurs,  and  the  like.  He  was 
liberal  with  his  money,  and  generous  in  the  matter  of  drink ; 
yet  he  was  not  regarded  with  friendly  eyes,  perhaps  on  account 
of  that  suspicion  regarding  the  navy  office  and  the  press.  As 
for  his  name,  it  was  Jonathan  Rayment. 

He  nodded  his  head  when  Aaron  appeared  at  the  door,  and, 
lifting  his  tankard,  drank  to  him  in  silence. 

"  How  goes  business  ?"  asked  Aaron. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  177 

"Business,"  Mr.  Rayment  replied,  mournfully,  "was  never 
worse.  Honest  merchants  are  undone.  My  next  ship  sails  in 
a  week,  and  as  yet  I  have  but  a  poor  half  dozen  in  the  place." 

"  That  is  bad." 

"And  a  sorry  lot  they  are.  One  is  a  young  parson  who 
hath  spent  his  all,  and,  in  despair,  took  one  night  to  the  road, 
and  now  thinks  the  hue-and-cry  is  out  after  him.  Another  is  a 
'prentice  who  hath  robbed  his  master's  till,  and  will  be  hanged 
if  he  is  caught,  and  yet  snivels  all  day  because  he  fears  the 
Great  Mogul's  black  Spahis  almost  more  than  he  fears  the  gal- 
lows. One  hath  deserted  twenty-one  times  from  the  army, 
twice  from  the  navy,  and  once  from  the  marines,  but  a  disso- 
lute fellow,  and  rotten  with  disease  and  drink ;  the  wind  whis- 
tles through  his  bones.  Yet  he  would  rather  cross  the  seas 
and  fight  for  the  Honorable  Company  than  be  taken  and  receive 
the  five  hundred  lashes  which  are  waiting  for  him.  He  might 
as  well  die  that  way  as  by  disease,  for  he  will  certainly  drop  to 
pieces  before  he  reaches  Calcutta.  Another  is  a  lawyer's  clerk, 
who,  I  believe,  hath  forged  his  master's  name — a  rogue  who  will 
fight,  though  small  of  stature.  Another  is  a  footpad,  for  whose 
apprehension  ten  guineas  reward  is  offered,  and  so  mean  and 
chicken-hearted  a  rogue  that  I  must  e'en  give  up  the  fellow  and 
content  myself  with  the  reward.  Sure  I  am  that  the  first  smell 
of  powder  will  kill  him.  A  sorry  lot,  indeed.  Well,  if  the 
war  continues,  I  am  ruined.  For  every  lusty  fellow  can  now 
find  employment,  either  in  a  regiment  or  on  board  a  ship,  and 
there  will  soon  be  no  debtors  or  footpads.  Alas !  Aaron,  I  re- 
member, not  so  long  ago,  when  the  peace  was  proclaimed,  and 
the  regiments  disbanded,  and  the  ships  paid  off.  Then  we  had 
for  nothing  our  choice  of  the  best.  Rogues  are  cheap  when  'tis 
their  only  choice  between  the  gallows  and  the  Company." 

The  meaning  of  all  this  was  that  the  respectable  Mr.  Rayment 
was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  crimp  by  trade  ;  one,  that  is, 
who  seeks  out  and  deludes,  inveigles,  or  persuades  recruits  for 
the  service  of  the  East  India  Company,  whether  for  their  land 
or  sea  service,  keeping  them  snug  in  the  house  till  the  ship 
sails.  As  regards  their  navy,  the  Company  hath,  I  have  been 
told,  a  fleet  of  a  hundred  ships  afloat,  to  man  which  is  difficult, 
and  requires  the  service  of  many  such  men  as  Mr.  Rayment, 
whose  methods  are,  as  is  well  known,  to  decoy  or  persuade 
8* 


178  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

young  men,  and  especially  young  men  who  are  friendless  or  in 
trouble  through  some  folly  or  crime,  into  their  houses,  and  there 
keep  them,  whether  they  will  or  no,  by  violence,  if  necessary, 
but  more  often  by  keeping  them  drunk,  so  that  they  know  not 
what  they  have  undertaken,  or  what  papers  they  have  signed, 
until  the  time  comes  when  they  can  be  put  aboard.  As  for  the 
service  of  the  Company,  the  young  gentlemen  who  are  sent  out 
by  the  Honorable  Council  to  Calcutta  or  Madras  as  writers  or 
clerks  do  frequently,  as  everybody  knows,  arrive  at  great  riches, 
and  come  home  nabobs.  But  I  never  yet  heard  that  any  of  the 
poor  fellows  who  have  been  decoyed  into  the  crimps'  houses  and 
shipped  on  board  an  East-Indiaman  for  foreign  service  in  the 
Company  have  ever  returned  at  all,  rich  or  poor. 

Between  Aaron  and  this  man  there  was  some  understanding 
or  partnership,  but  of  what  nature  or  to  what  extent  I  have  not 
learned.  Rayment  had  a  shop  in  Leman  Street  (quite  apart 
from  the  houses  in  which  he  kept  his  recruits),  where  he  sold 
many  things  besides  the  curiosities  which  he  bought  of  the  sail- 
ors in  Wapping  and  Poplar  as  well  as  at  Deptford.  Perhaps 
he  disposed  of  Aaron's  cargoes  for  him  after  a  run.  Perhaps 
he  arranged,  with  Aaron's  help,  for  the  passage  of  those  gen- 
tlemen, whether  Jacobites  or  Frenchmen,  who  are  anxious  to 
get  backward  and  forward  between  England  and  France  with- 
out the  observation  or  the  knowledge  of  the  government  of 
either  country.  There  is  abundant  occupation  for  such  gentry 
as  Mr.  Rayment,  whose  end  is  often  what  rogues  call  a  dance 
in  the  air.  And  just  as  Aaron  had  his  boat-building  yard, 
which  is  a  most  innocent  and  harmless  business,  so  Mr.  Ray- 
ment had  his  innocent  shop  in  Leman  Street,  and  was  to  out- 
ward seeming  an  honest  citizen,  who  went  forth  from  his  shop 
to  church  on  Sunday  morning  dressed  in  black  cloth,  white-silk 
stockings,  and  japanned  shoes,  with  a  newly  curled  and  pow- 
dered wig,  like  the  best  of  them,  and  was  permitted  to  exchange 
the  time  of  day  and  the  compliments  of  the  season  with  gentle- 
men of  reputation  and  known  piety.  Thus  many  villains  walk 
unsuspected  among  honest  men. 

"  Well,"  said  Aaron,  "  I  dare  say  you  will  not  starve.  What 
do  you  say,  now,  to  a  tall  recruit  ?" 

"  What  do  you  want  for  him,  Aaron  ?" 

"  You  shall  have  him  for  nothing." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  179 

Mr.  Rayment  looked  suspicious,  as  one  that  feareth  the  gifts 
of  his  friends,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  For  nothing,  Aaron  ?  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  for 
you,  then  ?" 

"  Nothing.  I  will  give  you  a  tall  and  lusty  recruit.  That  is 
plain,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  The  door  is  shut,  Aaron.     Tell  me  what  you  mean." 

"  Give  me  the  men  to  take  him,  and  he  is  yours." 

"  To  take  him  ?"  Mr.  Rayment  whispered.  "  Is  he  not  a  will- 
ing recruit,  then  ?  I  love  a  fellow  who  is  in  trouble,  and  de- 
sires to  be  put  into  a  place  of  safety." 

"  I  don't  know  about  his  willingness,"  said  Aaron,  grimly. 

"  If  he  is  not  willing,  is  he  a  fellow  to  be  persuaded  easily  ? 
As  far  as  a  skinful  of  punch  is  concerned,  I  care  not  about  the 
expense,  so  long  as  I  get  a  lusty  fellow." 

"  He  is  in  no  trouble,  and  he  is  not  willing.  It  will  take  half 
a  dozen  men  to  carry  him  along,  and  a  week's  starvation  to 
make  him  even  pretend  to  be  willing." 

"  'Tis  dangerous,  Aaron.  I  like  not  this  kidnapping  work. 
We  crimps  have  got  a  bad  name,  though  every  one  knows  my 
own  honesty.  Yet  we  must  not  openly  rival  the  press." 

"  Why,  you  have  done  it  hundreds  of  times." 

"  Ay,  for  the  picking  up  of  a  starving  rustic,  or  a  drunken 
sailor,  or  a  disbanded  soldier,  and  swearing,  when  they  are  so- 
ber again,  that  they  have  enlisted ;  that  is  neither  here  nor 
there.  And  it  is  for  the  good  of  the  poor  fellows.  Their  pay 
is  regular,  and  the  climate  considered  by  some  to  be  whole- 
some. It  is  playing  the  part  of .  Providence  to  help  the  poor 
men  with  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Aaron. 

"  Give  me  your  recruit  who  comes  red-handed,  the  runners 
after  him,  and  asks  for  nothing  but  to  be  shipped  safe  out  of 
the  country  as  soon  as  possible.  I  care  not  how  many  roguer- 
ies he  hath  committed.  Give  me  your  lusty  villain  who  hath 
stolen  his  master's  horse,  or  the  gallant  who  hath  squandered 
all  his  stock.  These  give  no  trouble.  But  with  pressed  and 
kidnapped  men  it  is  different." 

"  I  doubt  if  you  could  persuade  this  fellow,"  said  Aaron ; 
"  not  if  you  made  him  drink  a  cask  of  brandy." 

"We  have  had  misfortunes,  too,"  Mr.  Rayment  continued. 


180  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Only  last  May  there  was  brought  to  my  house  as  sweet  a 
country  lad  as  you  would  desire  to  see.  He  was  in  trouble 
about  a  girl,  and  desired  to  serve  the  king.  Well,  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  he  got  sober  and  learned  that  he  was  enlisted  in  the 
service  of  the  Company,  he  behaved  shamefully.  Nothing 
would  do  but  he  must  go  free  or  fight  for  it.  So  my  honest 
fellows  tried  persuasion,  and  in  the  end  there  were  collar-bones 
and  ribs  broken,  and  that  country  lad  was  carried  out  and  laid 
upon  Whitechapel  Mount,  stripped,  and  as  dead  as  any  gentle- 
man can  wish  to  be.  Think  of  the  loss  it  was  to  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Aaron,  "  your  fellows  must  not  persuade  my 
man  that  way." 

"  What  does  it  mean,  Aaron." 

"  It  is  a  private  matter.  You  need  not  have  anything  to  do 
with  it.  Send  me  half  a  dozen  stout  fellows,  and  you  shall 
know  nothing  at  all  about  it,  except  that  another  recruit  was 
enlisted,  who  stayed  at  the  house  till  the  ship  sailed,  and  was 
taken  on  board  drunk  and  speechless.  You  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  it  but  to  lend  me  your  men  and  your  house." 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Aaron.  It  may  turn  out  bad.  Has  the 
man  friends  ?" 

"  He  has.     Yet  this  l^s  friends  will  never  suspect." 

"  I  don't  like  the  job,  Aaron.  Kidnapping  should  only  be 
practised  on  strangers  and  rustics.  Is  he  a  tradesman  ?" 

"  No.  It  is  a  private  grudge,  Jonathan.  I  will  make  it 
worth  your  while.  I  must  have  this  man  put  out  of  the  way. 
He  is  a  lieutenant  in  the  king's  navy." 

Mr.  Rayment  jumped  from  his  chair. 

"  A  king's  lieutenant !     Aaron,  would  you  hang  us  all  ?" 

"  Sit  down,  you  fool.  It  is  a  safe  job.  Besides,  you  shall 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Sit  down,  and  listen." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  evenings  towards  the  end  of  October  set  in  early ;  and 
when  there  is  no  moon  the  nights  are  as  dark  as  in  midwinter. 
It  is  therefore  a  favorable  season  for  the  footpads  who  molest 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  181 

the  roads  outside  great  towns,  the  thieves  who  prowl  the  streets, 
and  the  highwaymen  who  stop  the  coaches.  At  Deptford  there 
are  neither  footpads  nor  street  prowlers,  though  robbers  enough, 
Lord  knows ;  but  they  rob,  for  the  most  part,  on  a  different 
plan,  and  within  the  houses.  In  times  of  peace,  when  a  sailor 
cannot  readily  find  a  ship,  or  a  disbanded  marine  cannot  find 
work,  there  have  been  known  cases  of  robbery  about  Deptford 
and  Greenwich.  But  in  such  a  year  as  1756,  when  the  sailors 
were  all  too  few  for  the  king's  ships,  and  they  were  continu- 
ally enrolling  new  regiments  of  marines,  no  one  in  these  towns 
gave  a  thought  to  the  dangers  of  footpads,  and  a  child  might 
have  carried  by  day  or  by  night  a  bag  full  of  guineas  from  the 
dock-yard  gate  to  the  bridge  without  fear  of  molestation.  Least 
of  all  would  such  a  man  as  Jack  Easterbrook  trouble  his  head 
about  robbers. 

He  left  the  Gun  Tavern,  where  he  had  spent  the  evening 
with  the  lieutenants  and  midshipmen  who  used  the  house,  at  a 
quarter  before  ten  or  thereabouts,  carrying  no  other  weapon 
than  his  hanger,  and  began  leisurely  to  walk  home  down  Church 
Lane.  The  upper  part  of  this  road,  when  you  have  passed  the 
church  and  the  Trinity  Almshouses,  is  darker  than  the  lower 
part,  by  reason  of  great  trees  and  a  high  hedge  on  either  hand. 
Light  or  dark,  'twas  all  the  same  to  Jack,  who  marched  along 
the  middle  of  the  road,  head  in  air,  his  thoughts  turned  on 
Bess,  as  they  commonly  were  at  this  time,  or  else  wondering 
how  long  before  he  should  receive  his  promised  commission. 
Soon  it  certainly  would  be,  even  though,  through  favoritism  and 
lack  of  interest,  he  should,  for  the  present,  be  passed  over,  be- 
cause officers  and  men  were  growing  scarce,  and  my  lords  the 
commissioners  wanted  all  they  could  get.  And  once  afloat 
again,  with,  if  kind  Heaven  willed,  a  fighting  captain,  there 
would  be  prizes  and  prize-money,  and  perhaps  swift  promotion. 
And  then  home  again,  to  the  arms  of  his  dear  girl.  This,  I  take 
it,  is  the  dream  of  every  sailor ;  whereas,  for  many,  instead  of 
returning  to  the  arms  of  a  fond  mistress,  they  are  lowered, 
with  a  cannonshot  at  their  heels,  into  the  cold  ocean,  or  come 
home  lopped  of  half  their  limbs,  only  to  find  their  inconstant 
mistress  in  another's  arms. 

Now,  as  he  was  thus  striding  along,  swinging  his  arms  as  he 
went,  he  became  suddenly  aware  of  shuffling  footsteps  and 


182  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

whispers,  which  betokened  the  presence  of  men  larking  behind 
the  trees ;  but  before  he  had  time  to  ask  himself  what  this 
might  mean  a  fellow  rushed  out  from  the  darkness,  armed  with 
a  pistol  in  one  hand,  which  he  pointed  at  Jack's  head,  and  a 
lantern  in  the  other,  which  he  turned,  unsteadily,  in  the  man- 
ner of  one  who  is  afraid,  upon  his  face,  crying,  "  Your  money 
or  your  life !" 

Jack  was  so  astonished  that  for  a  moment  he  made  no  reply. 
Then  he  sprang  upon  the  fellow,  and  caught  him  by  the  throat. 
"  My  money  or  my  life  !  Impudent  dog,  I  will  squeeze  thine  own 
life  out !"  And  so  shook  him  in  his  grasp — thumb  on  breath- 
ing-pipe— as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat,  so  that  the  man  dropped 
pistol  and  lantern,  and  would  have  experienced  the  fate  of  the 
rat  in  another  minute  but  for  the  help  of  his  friends.  As  it 
was,  he  would  have  cried  for  mercy,  but  he  could  neither  cry 
out  nor  breathe,  so  tight  were  the  fingers  at  his  throat.  In- 
deed, when  he  was  rescued,  half  a  minute  later,  his  face  was 
already  purple,  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head  like  a  shrimp's, 
and  his  tongue  swollen,  so  that  he  was  fain  to  sit  upon  the 
ground  awhile,  and  for  ten  minutes  or  so  he  knew  not  whether 
he  were  really  dead  and  in  the  next  world,  and  therefore  about 
to  reap  the  reward  of  his  many  villainies,  or  whether  he  were  still 
living  and  ready,  for  his  greater  damnation,  to  swell  that  long  list. 

When  the  light  of  the  lantern  fell  upon  Jack's  face  there  fol- 
lowed a  sharp,  short  whistle,  and  upon  that  signal  half  a  dozen 
lusty  fellows  sprang  upon  him  at  the  same  moment  from  both 
sides  of  the  road.  He  had  no  time  to  draw  his  sword  or  to 
make  any  resistance  of  any  kind,  for  one  of  them  fetched  him 
from  behind,  while  the  others  threatened  him  in  front,  so  foul 
a  stroke  with  an  oaken  cudgel  that  he  fell  like  a  log  and  with- 
out a  word  senseless  upon  the  ground,  dragging  with  him  the 
man  whom  he  held  by  the  throat. 

Then  the  men  all  crowded  over  him  ready  with  their  cudgels, 
and  as  courageous  as  you  please,  their  man  being  down.  But 
it  is  of  no  use  to  cudgel  a  senseless  man. 

They  were  joined  by  another  man — it  was  Aaron — a  tall  f el- 
tow,  truly.  He  seemed  like  a  giant  among  these  ruffians,  who, 
after  the  kind  of  riverside  villains,  were  short  of  stature,  though 
stout.  This  man  stood  over  the  fallen  lieutenant,  and  looked 
upon  the  prostrate  body  with  eyes  of  satisfaction. 


Jack  sprang  upon  the  fellow,  and  caught  him  by  the  throat." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  183 

"  He  fell  at  once,"  said  Aaron,  as  if  dissatisfied.  "  I  looked 
for  more  fighting.  I  thought  there  would  be  much  more  fight- 
ing. I  hoped  to  see  him  do  his  best  before  he  was  overpow- 
ered. Show  a  light  here."  One  of  them — not  the  first  vil- 
lain, who  was  now  sitting  on  the  ground  slowly  getting  his 
breath,  and  still  wondering  whether  he  were  dead  or  not — held 
the  lantern  before  Jack's  face.  The  eyes  were  closed,  and  his 
cheek  white. 

"  Master,"  said  the  man,  "  I  doubt  the  gentleman  is  killed 
outright.  This  is  a  bad  job  for  all  of  us." 

"  Killed !  Saw  ever  one  a  man  killed  by  a  stroke  of  a  cud- 
gel? I  wish  he  was  killed.  I  wish  he  was  dead  and  buried. 
Yet  he  shall  never  say  that  I  caused  him  to  be  killed.  Such  a 
man  as  this  does  not  die  of  a  cracked  skull.  Show  the  light 
again." 

This  time  he  looked  more  carefully.  The  lieutenant  was  in  a 
dead  swoon,  just  as  Aaron  himself  had  fallen  into  at  Horn  Fair, 
but  it  was  a  far  shrewder  knock  and  a  deeper  faint.  Aaron 
raised  an  eyelid,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  life  or  any  shrinking 
from  the  light.  And  now  he  saw  that  blood  was  flowing  from 
the  wound. 

"  He  will  lie  quiet  for  a  while  yet.  Well,  men,  here  is  your 
new  recruit." 

The  men  looked  at  each  other,  and  murmured  that  with 
king's  officers — for  now  they  saw  the  uniform  by  the  light  of 
the  lantern — they  would  not  meddle. 

"  Not  meddle,  ye  villains  ?"  cried  Aaron ;  "  why,  you  have 
meddled  with  him  already,  and  have  well-nigh  murdered  him, 
and  will  very  likely  hang,  every  mother's  son,  for  this  night's 
job.  Wherefore  take  him  up  and  carry  him  away ;  'tis  your 
only  chance  to  save  your  own  necks.  Get  him  across  the  river 
with  all  despatch,  and  snug  in-doors." 

The  men  hesitated.  One  of  them  murmured,  with  an  oath, 
that  they  would  not  hang  alone. 

"  When  he  comes  to  his  senses,"  Aaron  continued,  taking  no 
notice  of  this  threat,  "  tell  him  that  at  the  least  movement  you 
will  brain  him.  But  you  are  not  to  brain  him,  remember,  or 
your  master  will  lose  the  very  best  recruit  he  ever  had,  and  will 
cause  you  all  to  swing.  What  ?  There  is  enough  against  you 
for  every  man  to  swing."  This  assurance  was  made  more  em- 


184  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

phatic  by  the  language  which  this  sort  most  readily  understood. 
Still  the  men  hesitated.  The  king's  uniform  frightened  them. 
They  had  often  enough  kidnapped  a  poor  drunken  sailor,  but 
never  before  a  lieutenant.  Then  Aaron  swore  at  them,  and 
stamped  his  foot  upon  the  ground. 

"  Quick,  I  say.  What  ?  You  dare  to  argue  ?  Take  him  up. 
So.  Cover  him  with  a  jacket  to  hide  his  white  stockings  and 
breeches,  though  the  night  is  dark.  That  will  do — now — with 
a  will." 

They  took  him  up,  the  whole  six  sullenly  lending  a  hand, 
and  carried  him  as  men  carry  a  drunken  man. 

"  Carry  him  to  the  Stairs,  and  row  him  across  the  river  as 
quickly  as  you  may.  Bestow  him  in  the  upper  room  at  the 
back,  where  you  keep  the  chains  and  the  bars  for  your  unruly 
recruits.  Watch  him  by  day  and  night.  He  will  try  to  es- 
cape, that  is  certain ;  as  soon  as  he  recovers  consciousness  he 
will  try  to  escape.  Let  him  understand  that  he  will  be  knocked 
on  the  head  if  he  makes  the  attempt.  And  remember  he  is  a 
match  for  any  three  of  ye — ay,  the  whole  six,  I  verily  believe 
— for  he  is  as  strong  as  Samson.  If  he  succeeds  in  escaping 
he  will  have  you  all  in  Newgate.  He  will  drag  the  house  down, 
if  he  can,  in  order  to  escape.  You  are  in  great  danger,  my 
friends,  whatever  happens.  Yet  I  would  not  have  him  mur- 
dered. If  he  is  not  put  on  board  alive  there  will  be  a  warrant 
out  against  you  for  highway  robbery  and  violence,  and  hanged 
you  will  be,  every  man.  Therefore,  I  say,  take  care  of  him." 
Thus  he  spoke ;  now  showing  that  he  wished  the  man  dead, 
and  then  warning  them  not  to  kill  him.  "  It  is  but  three  or 
four  days'  nursing,  with  chains  and  a  watch  set  day  and  night, 
and  then  you  shall  hocus  his  drink  and  put  him  on  board,  and 
shove  the  drunken  beast  down  the  companion  *to  the  lower  deck 
with  the  recruits,  and  the  bo's'n's  rope's-end  first,  in  case  he 
complains ;  and  the  triangles  next,  in  case  he  is  stubborn  and 
mutinous.  I  should  like  to  see  him  tied  up  for  three  dozen. 
Now,  march." 

The  men  replied  nothing,  but  slung  their  burden  and  pre- 
pared to  obey. 

"  March,  I  say  ;  and  look  ^e,  the  press  was  last  night  out  on 
Tower  Hill,  and  the  night  before  they  were  busy  at  Redriff, 
where  there  was  fighting  and  warm  work,  so  that  the  men's 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  185 

spirit  is  up,  and  they  will  brook  no  resistance.  Perhaps — I 
know  not — they  are  out  to-night  at  Deptford.  If  the  press 
should  take  you,  carrying  a  king's  officer,  unconscious  and  with 
an  open  wound  in  his  head,  my  mates — why — you  are  dead  men 
— and  already  little  better." 

The  men  needed  no  more,  but  marched  off  at  the  double, 
as  they  say,  the  thought  of  the  press  lending  wings  to  their 
heels. 

"  To  knock  down,"  said  Aaron,  when  they  were  gone,  "  and 
to  kidnap  a  lieutenant  in  the  king's  navy,  and  to  ship  him, 
drugged  and  drunk,  on  board  an  East-Indiaman  for  a  recruit, 
is,  I  should  say,  high-treason  at  the  least.  But  none  of  the 
fellows  loiow  me,  and  who  is  to  prove  that  I  gave  the  orders  ? 
If  the  lieutenant  is  dead  already,  they  will  throw  his  body  into 
the  river.  If  he  is  not  dead,  most  of  these  poor  fellows  will 
surely  hang,  for  one  or  other  of  them  is  certain  to  turn  king's 
evidence.  Yet  if  he  tries  to  escape,  they  will  kill  him,  being 
used  to  murder,  and  thinking  little  of  it.  If  they  knew  it,  this 
is  their  best  chance.  If  they  do  not  kill  him — what  then  ?  He 
goes  aboard.  And  then.  I  know  not.  He  will  be  put  on 
board  in  rags.  No  one  will  believe  him  if  he  calls  himself  an 
officer.  I  doubt  if  the  lieutenant  will  come  back  again  to  Dept- 
ford. Whether  he  comes  back  or  not,  they  cannot  charge  the 
thing  to  me." 

Certainly  there  never  yet  was  conceived  a  more  diabolical 
plot,  or  one  of  greater  impudence,  than  to  waylay  and  kidnap 
an  officer  bearing  his  majesty's  commission,  to  keep  him  close 
prisoner  in  a  crimp's  house,  chained  and  half  starved,  watched 
day  and  night,  and  then,  as  was  intended,  to  thrust  him  down 
into  the  hold  of  an  East-Indiaman,  seemingly  stupid  with  drink 
(but  in  reality  bereft  of  his  senses  by  some  noxious  drug),  and 
to  pretend  that  he  was  a  volunteer  recruit.  It  is  very  well 
known,  and  matter  of  common  notoriety,  that  many  men  have 
been  thus  kidnapped  and  kept  prisoners,  and  then  shipped  un- 
der this  pretence.  They  are  carried  below,  apparently  drunk, 
and  laid  among  the  other  recruits,  for  the  most  part  a  most  des- 
perate, villainous  company.  Here  they  lie,  and  when  they  part- 
ly recover  they  are  already  out  to  sea,  in  the  gloomy  'tween- 
decks,  most  likely  speechless  with  seasickness,  among  strange 
and  horrible  companions,  and  no  one  on  board  who  will  so 


186  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

much  as  listen  to  their  story.  Here  was  revenge  indeed,  if  only 
it  could  be  carried  out !  And  what  was  to  prevent  ?  I  have 
never  heard  that  a  king's  officer  hath  been  thus  treated,  which 
makes  it  the  more  wonderful  for  Aaron  to  have  devised  so  bold 
a  scheme.  Yet  not  so  bold  as  it  seems,  because  if  Jack  could 
thus  be  carried  on  board,  in  rags,  unwashed,  unshaven,  his  hair 
about  his  ears,  who  would  believe  his  affirmation  that  he  was  a 
commissioned  officer  ?  Why,  if  such  a  ragamuffin  told  this  tale 
to  the  petty  officers  he  would  be  rope's-ended,  and  if  to  the  first 
lieutenant  or  to  the  -captain  himself,  he  would  most  likely  be 
tied  up  and  accommodated  with  three  dozen,  and  perhaps  six 
dozen,  for  insubordination ;  for  the  officers  of  the  company  are 
said  to  be  as  ready  as  those  of  the  king's  service — who,  Heaven 
knows,  are  never  too  lenient — in  dealing  with  refractory  recruits. 
Yet  sooner  or  later,  one  would  think,  the  thing  would  be  dis- 
covered, though  not  on  board  the  ship.  Then  the  lieutenant 
would  return  home  and  prefer  his  complaint,  and  punishment 
would  follow.  But  Aaron,  only  an  ignorant  fellow,  thought  of 
nothing  but  revenge.  There  are  some  men  to  whom  the  most 
terrible  punishment  in  the  future  seems  as  nothing  compared 
with  the  gratification  of  present  revenge. 

The  gang  of  rogues  had  not  gone  farther  towards  the  town 
than  St.  Paul's  Church,  marching  quickly  along  the  middle  of 
the  road,  ready  at  the  least  alarm  of  the  press  to  drop  their 
burden  and  to  run  in  all  directions,  when  they  encounter  an- 
other party,  consisting  of  three  negroes — one  carrying  a  lan- 
tern— and  a  gentleman  with  a  wooden  leg.  The  negroes  were, 
like  these  villains,  armed  with  cudgels,  but  they  also  carried 
cutlasses. 

"  Halt !"  cried  the  gentleman,  who  was  none  other  than  the 
admiral.  "  Turn  the  lantern  on  these  men,  Cudjo." 

The  negro  valiantly  advanced  and  showed  a  light  upon  the 
party.  They  wore  sailors'  clothes,  namely,  slops  or  petticoats, 
short  jackets,  and  hats  turned  up  straight  on  all  three  sides ; 
and  their  hair  was  long,  and  hung  about  their  necks.  It  was, 
indeed,  their  business  on  the  Tower  Hill,  and  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Ratcliffe,  Shadwell,  and  Wapping,  to  pretend  to  be  hon- 
est sailors,  and  therefore  to  wear  their  dress. 

"Why,"  said  the  admiral,  "they  are  sailors!  Whither 
bound,  my  lads,  and  what  are  you  carrying  ?" 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  187 

"  By  your  leave,  your  honor,"  said  one  of  them,  "  we  are  car- 
rying a  comrade  who  is  too  drunk  to  walk,  and  we  are  fearful 
of  leaving  him  in  the  hedge-side  by  reason  of  the  press." 

"Ay — ay — the  press.  Well — my  lads,  I  would  that  the 
press  could  take  you  all,  and  confound  you  for  a  poor,  lousy, 
chicken-hearted  crew.  I  wish  I  knew  where  the  press  is  this 
night,  that  I  might  set  them  on  to  you.  I  wish  my  negroes 
were  six  instead  of  three.  Go  your  ways.  March,  Cud  jo." 

The  men  made  no  reply,  but  hurried  away  as  quickly  as  they 
could.  The  admiral  looked  after  them  awhile. 

"  I  doubt,"  he  said,  "  that  all  was  not  right.  They  looked  a 
plaguy  cut-throat  set  of  rascals.  Perhaps  'twas  not  a  drunken 
comrade  after  all." 

Then  he  continued  his  way  home  in  the  usual  marching 
order,  but  slowly,  because  a  wooden -legged  man  who  has 
twinges  of  gout  in  his  remaining  toes  does  not  walk  fast. 
Presently  the  man  who  held  the  lantern  spied  something  in 
the  road  which  glittered.  He  picked  it  up.  'Twas  a  gold- 
laced  hat,  with  the  king's  cockade. 

"  Men,"  said  the  admiral,  "  this  is  the  hat  of  an  officer. 
What  does  this  mean  ?  Look  about  you,  every  one." 

The  road  was  quite  dark,  owing  to  the  trees  and  the  cloudy 
night.  Presently,  however,  the  men  found  a  pistol  in  the  road, 
and  beside  it  the  traces  of  scuffling  feet  and  torn  lace,  and, 
worse  still,  plain  marks  of  blood  upon  the  road." 

"  Here,"  said  the  admiral,  "  hath  been  wild  work.  Torn  ruf- 
fles— a  gold-laced  hat — a  pistol — and  a  gang  of  bloodthirsty 
cut-throats  carrying  a  body  with  them.  A  drunken  comrade, 
forsooth !  And  afraid  of  the  press ;  would  to  God  the  press 
might  take  them  red-handed !  Whom  have  they  murdered  ? 
For  murder,  surely,  it  is,  and  nothing  less.  Men  " — he  turned 
to  his  negroes — "  I  am  wooden-legged,  and  cannot  run.  Where- 
fore do  you  leave  me  here,  and  with  what  speed  you  may  hasten 
after  that  company,  and  call  upon  them  to  surrender,  and  if  they 
will  not,  raise  the  town  upon  them.  Draw  cutlasses — shoulder 
cutlasses — quick  march — double.  Run,  ye  black  devils,  as  if 
your  horny  grandfather  himself  were  after  you  !" 

If  the  admiral  had  ordered  his  negroes  to  jump  from  London 
Bridge  or  the  Monument,  they  would  have  done  it,  I  am  quite 
certain,  so  great  was  the  terror  with  which  they  regarded  him. 


188  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

Therefore,  at  the  word,  they  drew  their  weapons,  and  set  off 
running  with  the  greatest  resolution,  and  at  a  pretty  brisk  pace, 
showing  all  the  outward  signs  of  zeal  and  of  courage. 

Alas !  negroes  are  in  essentials  all  alike.  No  man  ever  yet 
found  courage  in  the  black  African,  any  more  than  industry, 
unless  the  white  man  was  behind  him  with  Father  Stick  for  pa- 
tience, or  honesty,  or  encouragement. 

The  night  was  dark.  Nothing  more  daunts  a  negro  than 
darkness,  because  to  him  the  night  is  peopled — especially  when 
there  is  no  white  man  present — with  all  kinds  of  fearful  and 
terrible  creatures ;  therefore,  in  their  running,  they  presently 
began  to  feel  the  gloomy  influence  of  the  hour,  and  their  speed 
slackened  gradually.  Next,  they  were  no  longer  young ;  and  it 
would  be  foolish  to  expect  of  those  whose  wool  is  gray  the 
courage  which  they  never  possessed  when  it  was  still  black. 
Thirdly,  the  admiral  was  out  of  sight  and  out  of  hearing.  And, 
again,  if  the  enemy  refused  to  surrender,  whom  were  they  to 
alarm?  What  were  they  to  say?  What  road  were  they  to 
take?  Lastly  —  a  consideration  which  weighed  with  them 
above  all  others — what  if  they  were,  unhappily,  to  overtake  the 
men  ?  They  were  but  three  to  six — and  three  feeble  old  blacks 
to  six  lusty  young  whites !  Then  might  occur  difficulties  un- 
foreseen by  the  admiral,  who  naturally  thought  that  his  own 
crew  must  always  gain  the  victory. 

These  doubts  and  difficulties  suggested  themselves  to  the 
brave  fellows  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  namely,  the  first 
moment  when  they  thought  their  footsteps  out  of  the  admiral's 
hearing.  They  halted  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Breddren,"  said  Snowball,  "  let  us  stop  and  deliberation  our- 
selves. Where  am  de  enemy  ?  Fled — flown — yah  !  De  poo' 
coward ! — run  clean  out  of  our  sight ! — 'fraid  to  face  brave 
black  man !" 

"  S'pose,"  said  Cudjo,  "  we  wait  just  quarter  ob  an  hour ; 
then  go  back  and  tell  his  honor — men  clean  gone ;  run  away 
before  us,  for  fear  ob  us  ?" 

This  was  agreed  to.  Nothing  more  was  said,  but  all  three 
sat  on  a  door-step,  and  waited  until  they  thought  the  quarter 
of  an  hour  seemed  to  be  passed,  and  they  thought  they  might 
safely  return. 

Even  if  they  had  followed  the  party  across  to  the  Stairs,  sup- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  189 

posing  they  knew  which  direction  to  take,  they  would  scarcely 
have  overtaken  them,  so  expeditious  were  the  men  in  getting  to 
the  river  and  in  pushing  off,  the  bank  being  at  this  time  quite 
deserted. 

Therefore,  when  they  thought  a  reasonable  time  had  elapsed, 
the  valiant  negroes  returned  slowly,  but  still  brandishing  their 
cutlasses.  Arrived  within  five  minutes  of  the  house,  they  broke 
into  a  quick  trot,  so  that  they  reached  the  doors  in  a  panting 
and  breathless  condition,  as  happens  to  those  who  very  earnest- 
ly and  zealously  carry  out  instructions. 

They  reported  that  at  the  bottom  of  Church  Lane  they  came 
upon  the  enemy,  and  called  upon  him  to  surrender  at  discretion 
or  take  the  terrible  consequences.  The  enemy  chose  the  latter, 
and  retreated  rapidly.  In  other  words,  they  all  vanished,  but 
whether  down  Butcher  Row  or  in  the  direction  of  Rogue  Lane, 
which  leads  into  the  open  fields,  south  of  Rotherhithe,  they 
could  not  tell,  and  in  the  darkness  and  uncertainty  they  thought 
it  best  to  return  for  further  orders. 

"  Why,"  said  the  admiral,  "  'tis  a  dark  night  truly.  And  if 
they  have  sailed  out  of  sight,  and  we  have  lost  them,  there  is 
no  more  to  be  said,"  and  so  put  away  the  torn  ruffles,  the  laced 
hat,  and  the  pistol,  in  case  they  might  be  wanted  for  evidence 
of  robbery  and  violence,  if  not  of  murder,  and  ordered  the  men 
an  extra  ration  of  rum,  and  so  to  bed.  Fortunately  he  had  no 
suspicion  that  the  hat  and  ruffles  belonged  to  Jack  Easterbrook, 
otherwise  his  night's  rest  would  have  been  disturbed.  As  for 
the  pistol,  however,  that  he  discovered,  on  examination,  had  not 
been  discharged. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN    THE    CRIMP'S    HOUSE. 

MR.  JONATHAN  RAYMENT  was  not  only  a  crimp  (though  at 
his  shop  in  Leman  Street  they  knew  not  this,  and  in  his 
houses  they  knew  not  his  name),  but  he  was  a  crimp  in  a 
large  way  of  business,  as  they  say  of  honest  trades,  being 
the  possessor  of  half  a  dozen  houses  in  different  parts  of  Lon- 
don, all  kept  for  no  other  purpose  than  the  receiving  of  re- 


190  THE    WORLD    WENT    VEEY    WELL    THEN. 

emits  for  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company.  There  is  no 
concealment  about  this  business ;  everybody  knows  that  they 
are  crimps'  houses.  One  of  them  was  in  the  high  street,  Wap- 
ping ;  one  in  Chancery  Lane ;  a  third  in  Butcher  Row,  at  the 
back  of  St.  Clement's  "Church ;  and  another  in  Tothill  Fields. 
He  employed  a  good  many  men  to  decoy  and  entrap  his  prey. 
Some  among  them  went  dressed  soberly,  like  substantial  citi- 
zens, or  in  scarlet,  like  half-pay  captains,  and  frequented  the 
gambling-houses,  where  they  made  the  acquaintance  of  those 
who  were  driven  to  despair  by  losing  all ;  some  haunted  the 
coffee-houses,  taverns,  theatres,  and  mug-houses.  Here  they 
picked  up  young  countrymen  who  had  run  through  their  mon- 
ey, 'prentices  who  had  robbed  their  masters,  and  even  young 
gentlemen  of  quality  who  had  wasted  their  substance  in  riot- 
ous living,  and  now  saw  nothing  before  them  but  a  debtor's 
prison.  Others,  again,  worked  chiefly  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Wapping  and  the  town,  being  always  on  the  lookout  for  rustics 
and  laboring  men  out  of  work,  disbanded  soldiers,  paid-off 
sailors,  men  discharged  for  misconduct,  and  rogues  in  hiding. 
These  they  either  bought  or  entrapped,  and  sometimes  when 
they  could  not  persuade  they  hesitated  not  to  kidnap.  It  was 
from  this  gang  that  the  six  fellows  came  who  assaulted  Jack. 
"When  they  got  to  the  river-side,  still  running  at  the  double, 
being  horribly  afraid  of  the  press,  and  knowing  not  whether 
they  might  not  encounter  the  gang  face  to  face,  they  made  all 
haste  to  deposit  their  charge  in  the  boat  and  rowed  off.  Pres- 
ently the  cold  air  playing  on  Jack's  bare  head  began  to  revive 
him,  and  he  half  opened  his  eyes  and  began  to  collect  his 
senses.  Fortunately  the  men  paid  no  attention  to  him,  or  it 
might  have  been  all  over  with  him.  At  first  he  understood 
nothing  except  that  he  was  in  a  boat,  but  on  what  water  he 
knew  not.  Next  he  understood  that  the  men  were  rowing  up- 
stream. And  so,  little  by  little,  some  knowledge  of  what  had 
happened  came  to  him,  and  he  wondered  whither  they  were 
taking  him,  and  why  he  was  thus  treated.  He  understood, 
that  is  to  say,  that  he  had  been  attacked,  and  perhaps  robbed, 
and  that  he  had  been  in  a  swoon.  More  he  knew  not.  "  No 
voyage,"  he  told  me  afterwards,  "  ever  seemed  longer  to  me 
than  this  three  quarters  of  a  mile  from  Deptford  to  King  Ed- 
ward's Stairs.  And  I  knew  not  whether  to  rejoice  or  to  trem- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  191 

ble  when  the  men  shipped  oars  and  the  boat's  bow  struck  the 
stairs."  The  event  was  doubtful,  and  only  one  thing  certain, 
namely,  that  he  was  in  hands  which  meant  no  good  to  him ; 
that  he  had  been  knocked  silly  for  a  time,  and  was  still  incapa- 
ble of  making  resistance ;  that  it  was  growing  late,  and  good 
people  were  abed ;  and  that  he  had  been  conveyed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  where  honest  people  are  scarce.  For  all  these 
reasons  he  resolved  upon  continuing  senseless  as  long  as  possi- 
ble. If,  he  thought,  it  had  been  intended  to  kill  him,  why  had 
they  not  done  so  right  out?  Why  had  they  not  tumbled  him 
into  the  river  ?  Why  had  they  taken  all  the  trouble  of  carry- 
ing him  to  the  river-side  and  so  across  the  water  if  they  were 
going  to  kill  him  ?  And  if  not,  what  were  they  going  to  do 
with  him  ? 

King  Edward's  Stairs,  whither  they  brought  him,  are  the 
next  but  one,  going  down  the  river,  to  Execution  Dock.  These 
stairs  are  at  no  time  in  the  day  so  well  frequented  as  Wapping 
Old  Stairs  and  WTapping  New  Stairs,  higher  up,  or  Shadwell 
Stairs,  lower  down.  After  dark  they  are  for  the  most  part  de- 
serted, or  simply  used  by  the  river  pirates  and  night  plunder- 
ers for  the  landing  of  the  booty  they  have  gotten  from  ships 
and  barges.  On  this  night  there  were  no  watermen  on  the 
stairs,  and  only,  at  the  head,  clustered  together  for  warmth  un- 
der a  pent-house,  which  would  keep  off  rain,  if  not  wind  and 
cold,  half  a  dozen  of  the  miserable  boys  who  pick  up  their  liv- 
ing in  the  mud  of  the  river,  and  are  called  mud-larks  or  rat- 
catchers. When  they  grow  up  they  may  perhaps  become 
lumpers  or  scuffle-hunters,  if  they  are  lucky,  and  so  get  a 
chance  of  dying  in  their  beds ;  but  for  the  most  part  they  are 
destined  to  become  what  are  called  light-horsemen  (that  is, 
robbers  of  ships  lying  in  the  river)  and  plunderers  working  for 
the  receivers  of  Wapping  and  Shadwell,  and  pretty  certain  to 
be  either  knocked  on  the  head  in  some  brawl  or  hanged  for 
robbery. 

The  boys  looked  up  on  hearing  the  steps,  but  seeing  a  dead 
body  (as  it  seemed)  being  carried  by  half  a  dozen  men,  they 
prudently  observed  silence  and  lay  snug,  lest  they  themselves 
might  be  put  into  the  condition  of  being  unable  to  give  evi- 
dence. The  men  carried  their  burden  up  the  steps,  cursing 
and  grumbling  at  the  weight — a  body  measuring  six  feet  one 


192  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

is  not  a  light  weight  even  for  six  men  to  carry.  Then  they 
turned  the  lantern  once  more  upon  his  face. 

"  He  is  stark  dead,"  said  one.  "  Let  us  empty  his  pockets 
and  chuck  him  into  the  river." 

"No,  no,"  said  another.  "Bring  him  along.  He  is  not 
dead." 

So  they  lifted  him  up  and  carried  him  along  the  streets, 
where  by  this  time  the  taverns  were  closed  and  the  people  all 
gone  to  their  beds.  Jack  knew  very  well  that  they  must  be 
somewhere  among  those  streets  of  sailors'  houses  and  sailors' 
shops  which  lie  between  the  river-side  and  the  market-gardens 
of  Shadwell  and  Wapping.  But  still  he  understood  not  what 
was  intended  by  carrying  him  here. 

Presently  they  halted  at  a  house ;  it  was  in  the  high  street, 
Wapping.  By  this  time  Jack  had  cautiously  opened  his  eyes. 
He  saw  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  company  of  six.  What 
had  these  fellows  to  do  with  him  ?  Why  did  they  take  all  this 
trouble  ? 

Then  the  door  was  opened,  and  they  carried  him  into  the 
house  and  up  the  stairs  into  a  room  at  the  back.  Here  they 
flung  him  down  upon  the  floor,  and  that  so  roughly  that  his 
wound  was  opened,  and  he  swooned  away  once  more. 

When  he  recovered  he  found  that  they  were  dragging  his 
clothes  from  him, 

"  Now,"  said  one  of  them,  "  throw  a  blanket  over  him,  Par- 
son. Lay  them  things  ready  for  him  to  put  on ;  they're  the 
clothes  of  the  poor  devil  who  died  here  last  week.  If  he  wants 
to  escape  he  will  have  either  to  run  naked  or  put  on  those 
duds,  instead  of  his  fine  uniform,  which  will  change  him  so  as 
his  own  mother  won't  know  him  again.  Perhaps  she  won't  get 
the  chance  of  setting  eyes  upon  her  boy  for  many  a  year  to 
come.  Now,  then,  smart's  the  word,  ye  lubbers ;  we've  got  our 
man  snug  and  safe,  and  now  we'll  have  some  supper,  and  watch 
turn  about." 

Jack  was  now  wide  awake,  but  his  head  was  still  heavy. 
Things  looked  black.  He  was  in  a  house  at  Wapping,  and  he 
was  stripped  naked;  he  had  an  open  and  bleeding  wound  in 
the  head;  a  bundle  of  rags  was  lying  beside  him  in  place  of 
his  own  clothes ;  he  was  guarded  by  half  a  dozen  ruffians,  as 
ugly  and  villainous-looking  a  crew  as  one  may  desire.  In  look- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  193 

ing  at  them,  being,  perhaps,  a  little  light-headed  with  his 
wound,  he  began  to  think  about  Mr.  Brinjes's  piratical  crew, 
and  how  they  fought  and  killed  each-  other.  Perhaps  these 
gentlemen  might  begin  to  fight  after  they  had  taken  their  sup- 
per. Perhaps  they  would  all  kill  each  other.  Meanwhile  he 
lay  perfectly  still,  with  one  eye  half  open. 

Then  the  man  they  called  "  Parson  "  came  up-stairs,  bringing 
food  and  drink,  which  he  set  upon  the  table,  and  they  took 
their  supper,  for  the  most  part  in  silence,  or,  if  there  was  any 
talk,  it  was  disguised  and  rendered  unintelligible  by  the  oaths 
and  cursing  which  wrapped  it  up;  The  fellows,  in  fact,  were 
uneasy ;  they  had  faithfully  carried  out  their  orders,  but  they 
knew  not  what  might  happen  in  consequence  to  themselves.  It 
is  the  punishment  of  such  men  as  these  that  they  must  needs 
do  what  their  master  bids  them,  as  much  as  if  they  were  bound 
hand  and  foot  to  the  devil,  because  they  are  one  and  all  in  his 
power,  and  he  might  cause  every  man  to  be  hanged  if  he  chose. 
The  "  Parson  "  had  now  lit  the  fire,  which  was  blazing  cheer- 
fully, and  there  was  a  candle  on  the  table.  The  room  was 
small,  and  the  windows  were  barred ;  the  air  was  heavy  and 
stinking.  As  for  the  "  Parson,"  Jack  observed  that  he  was  a 
young  man,  whose  face  bore  the  marks  of  deep  dejection,  but 
not  of  the  brutal  habits  which  were  stamped  upon  the  faces  of 
his  associates.  And  he  was  dressed  in  a  cassock.  What  was 
a  clergyman  doing  in  such  a  house  ? 

When  the  men  had  eaten  their  supper  they  began  to  pass 
round  the  pannikin.  They  passed  it  so  quickly  that  Jack  hoped 
they  would  speedily  get  drunk,  so  that  the  fighting  might  be- 
gin. They  did  get  drunk,  but  they  did  not  fight.  One  after 
the  other  they  fell  asleep,  until  two  only  were  left  awake.  These 
were  to  take  the  first  watch,  and  had  therefore  been  obliged  to 
spare  the  pannikin.  The  Parson  quietly  laid  the  four  who 
were  asleep  upon  the  floor,  their  feet  to  the  fire.  Then  he  took 
the  candle  and  looked  at  Jack. 

"  Our  new  recruit,"  he  said,  speaking  with  the  voice  of  a 
scholar,  and  not  in  the  coarse  and  rude  speech  of  his  compan- 
ions— "  our  new  recruit  appears  to  be  overcome  with  fatigue. 
Zeal  for  the  service  hath,  doubtless,  laid  him  low." 

He  laid  aside  the  hair  and  looked  at  the  wound.  "  It  is  more 
than  fatigue,"  he  said.  "  I  perceive  that  he  hath  received  a 
9 


194  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

hurt.  It  is  not  uncommon  with  those  who  come  to  this 
house." 

"  He  fell  down,"  one  of  the  men  replied  ;  "  and  he  fell  down 
so  gallows  hard  that  he  knocked  his  head  upon  a  stone,  and 
hasn't  opened  his  eyes  nor  his  mouth  since." 

"  Gentlemen,  the  man  hath  an  ugly  wound.  'Twere  a  pity — 
his  honor  would  take  it  ill — if  anything  happened  to  this  man, 
a  tall  and  proper  fellow,  for  want  of  a  little  care.  By  your 
permission  I  will  bring  cold  water  and  dress  his  wound." 

They  made  no  objection,  and  the  Parson  presently  returned 
with  a  clout  and  cold  water,  with  which  he  washed  the  blood, 
and  applied  plaster  to  the  wound.  As  for  the  bleeding,  it  was 
caused  by  the  cutting  of  the  ear  rather  than  the  blow  on  the 
skull.  This  done,  he  laid  a  blanket  over  Jack's  bare  limbs. 

"  He  will  now,"  said  the  Parson,  "  when  he  recovers,  lie 
easier.  It  is  long  since  you  brought  in  so  brave  a  recruit.  Call 
me,  gentlemen,  when  he  recovers ;  the  pulse  is  quick  and 
strong ;  he  will  not  long  be  senseless.  I  am  but  in  the  next 
room.  Shall  I  bring  you  some  more  rum,  gentlemen  ?" 

"  You  may,  Parson.  The  jug  is  out.  Fill  it  up.  We  have 
four  hours'  watch  before  us.  And  more  tobacco." 

The  fire  was  now  burning  low.  Through  the  bars  of  the 
windows  Jack  could  see  the  stars,  and  presently  a  clock  hard 
by  struck  twelve.  He  was  a  recruit,  he  now  understood.  In 
other  words,  he  had  been  kidnapped,  and  was  in  the  house  of 
a  crimp.  Everybody  has  heard  of  such  places,  but  they  do  not 
generally  kidnap  officers  of  the  king's  navy.  However,  it 
seemed  as  if  they  were  not  going  to  murder  him,  which  was  a 
comfort.  No  man,  not  even  the  bravest,  likes  to  be  knocked 
on  the  head  in  a  house  of  crimps  while  helpless  and  faint. 

The  men  who  were  on  watch  filled  and  lit  their  pipes,  and 
began  to  talk  in  low  voices. 

"  I'm  queerly  sleepy,  mate,"  said  one.  "  How  hard  they 
breathe,  don't  they?" 

"There  were  no  orders  about  his  purse,"  said  the  other. 
"  Five  guineas  and  a  crown.  That's  a  guinea  and  a  shilling 
apiece.  Little  enough,  too,  for  our  trouble.  What  about  the 
clothes  ?" 

"There's  no  orders  about  the  clothes.  Let  us  have  them 
too." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  195 

"  No.  Let  us  bum  the  clothes.  Guineas  can't  tell  no  tales ; 
but  a  king's  uniform  can.  Best  burn  'em." 

"  Mate,"  said  the  other,  "  I  don't  like  the  job.  It's  no  laugh- 
ing matter,  I  doubt.  Let  us  cut  his  throat  at  once  while  the 
others  are  asleep.  We  can  slash  his  face,  and  lay  him  naked 
in  the  fields,  so  as  no  one  won't  know  him  again." 

"  Same  as  we  did  that  other  fellow  who  tried  to  get  away. 
We  took  him  to  Whitechapel  Mount,  though." 

"  We've  knocked  many  on  the  head  before." 

"  But  never  a  king's  officer.  This  one  won't  order  up  no 
man  again  for  six  dozen,  will  he  ?" 

"  Perhaps  he  is  dead  already." 

The  speaker  rose  and  took  the  candle.  Then  he  stooped  be- 
side the  motionless  figure  and  slowly  passed  the  candle  across 
the  eyes.  If  you  do  this  before  a  man  who  is  sound  asleep  he 
will  become  restless  and  uneasy,  if  he  is  not  actually  awake ;  if 
you  do  it  to  a  waking  man,  it  is  difficult  indeed  for  him  not  to 
open  his  eyes  or  wink  them.  But  Jack  made  no  sign. 

"  He  is  still  senseless,"  said  the  man.  "  I  wonder  if  he  is 
really  dead?"  He  felt  his  heart.  "  No  ;  his  heart  is  beating." 

"  Mate  ?"  asked  the  other.  Jack  understood,  though  his  eyes 
were  closed,  that  there  was  a  gesture  as  of  a  knife  across  the 
throat. 

"'Twould  make  all  sure,"  he  said;  "dead  men  tell  no  tales. 
Suppose  we  were  to  ship  him,  what  is  to  prevent  their  finding 
out  that  they've  a  king's  officer  on  board  ?  Suppose  we  finish 
him  off  now,  who  will  be  able  to  split  on  us  ?  Let  us  take  and 
do  it  —  you  and  me  —  while  he's  unconscious.  What  is  it? 
One  slice  of  the  knife,  and  we've  done  with  him  in  a  neat  and 
workmanlike  manner." 

"  Hold  hard  a  bit,  mate.  What  about  the  tall  fellow  on  the 
other  side  ?  You  heard  what  he  said.  Besides,  the  Parson 
knows.  We  can't  cut  the  Parson's  throat  as  well.  But  it's 
the  tall  fellow  I  fear,  not  the  Parson." 

"  If  it  comes  to  hanging,"  said  the  other,  swearing  horribly, 
"  damme  if  I  swing  alone  !" 

"You'll  have  me  kicking  alongside  of  you,  mate,  and  the 
rest  of  us.  We  shall  all  swing  in  a  row." 

"  Ay,  and  he  shall  kick  with  us.     Oh,  I  know  who  he  is." 

«  Who  is  he  ?" 


196  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  That's  my  secret.     I  know  him,  and  that  is  enough." 

"  Tell  me,  my  hearty." 

"His  name  is  Fletcher  —  Aaron  Fletcher.  He's  a  boat- 
builder  by  trade,  but  he's  got  a  boat  of  his  own,  which  he 
keeps  sometimes  at  Gravesend,  and  sometimes  up  the  Medway, 
and  sometimes  she  lays  off  Leigh,  in  Essex,  where  I've  unladen 
many  a  cargo  for  him.  If  so  be  we  are  brought  into  trouble 
by  this  night's  job,  pass  the  word  for  a  warrant  to  arrest  Aaron 
Fletcher.  Don't  you  forget  the  name  —  Aaron  Fletcher,  of 
Deptford,  him  as  give  the  orders,  and  stood  behind  the  tree, 
ready  to  whistle  when  the  lantern  showed  we'd  got  him." 

"  I  won't  forget,  mate.  Let  us  leave  the  job  till  to-morrow. 
If  it's  to  be  a  throat  job,  take  in  the  rest:  make  'em  all  have 
a  hand  in  it  —  Parson  and  all.  Every  man  shall  have  his 
hand  in  it.  What !  are  we  two  to  be  hanged  and  the  rest 
get  off?" 

They  went  back  to  their  pipes  and  their  rum. 

"  The  ship  sails  next  Saturday  at  noon,"  said  one.  "  We've 
got  but  five  recruits,  counting  the  Parson,  and  I  doubt  if  the 
captain  will  let  him  go.  Because  why  ?  'Tis  useful  and  handy 
to  have  a  man  in  the  place  like  the  Parson,  who  won't  get 
drunk,  and  does  the  housework  beautiful,  and  doesn't  look 
outside  the  doors  for  fear  of  being  taken.  There's  the  'pren- 
tice and  the  footpad  and  the  fellow  who  sits  and  snivels  all 
day  long.  What  with  the  war  and  the  new  ships  and  the  new 
regiments,  the  Company's  service  will  go  to  the  dogs ;  and 
what  is  to  become  of  us  ?  It  is  a  poor  show  after  the  stout  fel- 
lows we  used  to  hale  on  board,  all  so  drunk  that  they  couldn't 
stand." 

"The  captain  says  business  must  get  better,  and  he  can't 
have  a  set  o'  lazy  rogues  eating  their  heads  off.  Why  did  the 
captain  send  us  to  Deptford?  He  must  be  in  it  as  well." 

"  If  he  is,  who's  to  prove  it  ?  He  didn't  give  no  orders. 
Pass  the  pannikin." 

Their  pipes  being  now  out  they  began  to  drink  faster,  Jack 
looking  on,  half  tempted  to  pretend  recovery  and  to  ask  for  a 
tot  of  the  drink.  Fortunately  he  refrained ;  for  in  a  short  time 
he  perceived  that  their  heads  began  to  drop  and  their  eyes  to 
swim.  "  Never,"  thought  Jack,  "  have  I  seen  men  get  drunk 
in  this  fashion  before."  Then  they  caught  at  the  table  to  pre- 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          197 

vent  falling,  and  poured  more  rum  from  the  jug  into  the  pan- 
nikin and  drank  it,  but  with  unsteady  hand.  Then  their  heads 
nodded  heavily  at  each  other,  with  wild  eyes,  as  if  they  would 
fain  keep  sober ;  and  then  one  of  them  fell  from  his  chair  upon 
the  floor,  and,  with  a  drunken  curse  upon  his  lips,  fell  instantly 
fast  asleep.  "The  rum  must  have  the  devil  in  it,"  Jack  said 
to  himself. 

There  was  now  only  one  man  left  of  the  whole  six.  It  was 
the  man  who  was  so  anxious  to  finish  off  the  job  in  workman- 
like fashion.  He  looked  round  him  stupidly.  His  five  com- 
rades were  lying  on  the  floor,  breathing  heavily.  His  eyes  fell 
upon  the  corner  where  Jack  lay.  He  rose  up  and  opened  the 
sailors'  knife  which  hung  round  his  neck. 

"  I'll  cut  his  throat,"  he  said,  with  drunken  cunning,  "  while 
the  others  are  asleep.  In  the  morning  I  shall  say  they  did  it, 
and  I  looked  on,  but  couldn't  prevent,  so  drunk  they  were,  and 
me  the  only  sober  one.  The  captain  he  won't  let  'em  all  be 
hanged,  poor  devils !  when  I  tell  him  how  they  got  drunk,  and 
would  do  it,  whatever  I  could  say."  Here  he  rolled,  and  near- 
ly fell.  He  reached  for  the  jug,  and  drank  from  it.  Then  his 
legs  gave  way  beneath  him,  and  he  fell  upon  his  back.  He 
tried  to  get  up,  still  holding  his  knife  in  his  hand,  and  medi- 
tating the  murder.  But  he  fell  back,  his  head  pillowed  upon 
a  sleeping  brother's  leg.  "  I'll  cut  his  throat,"  he  said,  "  first 
thing  in  the  morning,  before  the  others  wake.  If  Aaron — 
Aaron — comes  to  ask — I'll  cut  his  throat  too — and  the  Parson's 
too — and  the  captain's.  I'll  cut  all  their  throats." 

He  said  no  more,  and  then  there  was  nothing  heard  but  the 
heavy  breathing  and  snoring  of  the  whole  six.  And  Jack 
heard  the  clock  of  St.  John's  strike  two.  He  was  not  killed 
yet,  and  the  murderers  were  dead  drunk.  If  only  he  could 
find  the  strength  to  get  up,  and  to  put  on  the  rags  which  lay 
beside  him  in  place  of  his  own  clothes ! 


198  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OF     J  A  C  K'S     ESCAPE. 

THIS  resolution  of  the  doubt  whether  he  was  to  be  immedi- 
ately slaughtered  or  not  naturally  gave  the  lieutenant  consid- 
erable satisfaction.  The  villain  who  was  chiefly  set  upon  his 
murder  was  fast  asleep,  breathing  heavily,  the  knife  still  in  his 
hand  with  which  he  had  intended  to  carry  out  his  diabolical 
design  had  not  the  rum  overmastered  him. 

He  tried  to  sit  up.  Alas !  his  head  was  like  a  heavy  lump 
of  lead  which  he  could  not  lift.  That  he  was  stripped  naked 
would  have  mattered  little ;  he  had  a  blanket,  and  the  fellows 
had  not  taken  off  his  shoes,  so  that,  had  he  got  out  into  the 
street,  he  would  have  appeared  bareheaded,  wrapped  round  the 
body  with  a  rug,  like  a  savage,  yet,  as  to  his  feet,  dressed 
in  white  silk  stockings  and  silver-buckled  shoes.  Sailors  have 
been  turned  out  into  the  street  in  even  worse  plight  than  this, 
and  certainly  one  would  rather  escape  naked  than  not  at  all. 

So  he  lay,  listening  and  watching,  for  two  hours  and  more. 
Then  the  candle,  which  had  been  flickering  in  the  socket,  went 
out  suddenly,  and  there  was  no  light  except  a  dim  red  glow 
from  the  dying  embers  in  the  fireplace,  and  the  house  seemed 
perfectly  quiet. 

"  This,"  said  Jack,  listening,  "  looks  more  hopeful.  If  only 
I  could  sit  up." 

He  confessed  afterwards,  and  was  not  ashamed  to  confess, 
that  he  was  greatly  moved  with  fear  during  this  uncertainty  of 
his  fate,  and  that  no  action  at  sea  could  compare  for  dreadful- 
ness  with  this  helpless  lying  in  a  corner,  expecting  at  any  mo- 
ment to  be  slaughtered  like  a  poor  silly  sheep.  "For,"  he 
said,  "  if  a  man  cannot  fight  he  must  needs  be  a  coward.  There 
is  no  help  for  him.  I  shall  never  laugh  at  cowards  more.  I 
had  no  strength  left  in  me  to  make  the  least  resistance — no, 
not  so  much  as  a  girl.  And  I  looked  every  moment  to  hear 
one  of  those  villains  stir  and  wake  up." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  199 

They  did  not  stir  or  make  the  least  sign  of  waking,  but  Jack 
heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  "  Here  comes  another  murder- 
er," he  thought;  "it  is  now  all  over  with  me,  and  I  shall  see 
my  Bess  no  more.  Poor  girl !  "Will  she  murder  Aaron  in  re- 
venge ?  Or  will  she  never  find  out,  and  marry  him  ?  Oh,  for 
ten  minutes  of  my  old  strength  and  a  cudgel !" 

The  extremity  of  his  agitation  gave  him  power  to  lift  his 
head  and  to  sit  upright,  leaning  against  the  wall,  and  looking 
for  nothing  less  than  immediate  death. 

The  footsteps  were  those  of  the  man  in  the  cassock  whom 
they  called  the  Parson.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  candle,  with 
which  he  surveyed  the  room  and  the  sleeping  men.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  prisoner. 

"  So,"  he  said,  "  you  have  come  to  your  senses,  and  can  sit 
up.  Do  you  think  you  can  stand  and  walk  ?" 

"If  you  mean  to  murder  me,"  said  Jack,  "do  it  at  once, 
without  more  jaw — of  which  we  have  had  enough." 

"  I  have  no  such  thought,  sir.  Murder  you  ?  Heaven  for- 
bid !  Why  should  I  murder  you  ?" 

"  Then  hush,  or  you  will  wake  these  fellows." 

"  Wake  them  ?"  The  Parson  kicked  the  man  who  lay  near- 
est him.  "Wake  them?  If  the  house  was  in  flames  they 
would  not  wake  up  till  they  were  half  burned.  In  this  place, 
sir,  we  know  our  business,  and  how  to  doctor  the  drink  so  as 
to  produce  as  sound  a  sleep  as  is  thought  necessary.  For  in- 
stance, you  may  sing  or  dance,  or  do  anything  you  please,  but 
you  shall  not  wake  up  these  fellows.  I  have  done  the  job  for 
them,  and  they  are  safe  for  six  hours  and  more  to  come." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me,  then  ?"  asked  Jack.  "  You 
are  one  of  them,  and  yet — " 

"  I  am  in  this  house  for  my  sins  and  for  my  punishment,  not 
for  my  pleasure.  Ask  me  no  more.  As  for  what  I  want  with 
you,  I  am  come  to  set  you  free." 

"  To  set  me  free  ?     Is  it  possible  ?" 

"  Sir,"  said  this  strange  creature,  "  you  are  astonished  to 
find  any  conscience  at  all  in  such  a  place,  which  is,  indeed, 
truly  the  habitation  of  devils.  Yet  I  would  not  have  your 
murder  added  to  my  guilt ;  and,  upon  my  word,  sir,  when  these 
villains  come  to  their  senses,  I  believe  there  is  no  chance  for 
you  whatever.  For,  sir,  consider.  The  kidnapping  of  a  king's 


200  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

officer,  and  the  shipping  of  him  on  board  an  East-Indiaman,  is 
a  thing  which  cannot  fail  to  be  discovered,  and  it  is  certainly 
a  hanging  matter.  I  know  not  what  madness  possessed  them 
to  attempt  it.  Therefore  they  are  mighty  uneasy,  and  though 
they  have  put  off  the  matter  for  the  night,  because  you  were 
senseless,  and  no  man  likes  to  kill  another  in  his  sleep,  yet  to- 
morrow morning,  when  they  come  to  themselves  and  consider 
the  danger  they  are  in,  they  will,  I  am  certain,  resolve  to  de- 
spatch you  in  order  to  make  all  sure,  and  then,  after  slashing 
your  face,  they  will  lay  you  in  some  open  and  exposed  spot,  as 
Whitechapel  Mount  or  the  Market  Gardens,  or  very  likely,  if 
it  seems  easier  done,  they  will  tie  a  stone  to  your  feet  and  drop 
you  into  the  river.  Because,  sir,  the  body  once  out  of  the  way, 
and  not  to  be  recognized,  who  is  to  prove  the  murder,  unless 
one  of  the  villains  turns  informer  2" 

To  this  Jack  could  make  no  reply,  but  still  he  marvelled 
greatly  that  such  a  man  should  be  in  such  a  place. 

"  Certain  I  am,"  the  Parson  continued, "  that  never  man  had 
a  more  narrow  escape  than  you.  And  had  you  been  conscious, 
or  showed  any  signs  of  life,  they  would  have  brained  you. 
Therefore  I  kept  coming  and  going,  because,  though  the  house 
reeks  with  murder,  I  think  that  they  would  not  go  so  far  as  to 
murder  you  before  my  eyes.  But  come,  sir,  it  is  close  upon 
early  morning,  and  already  nearly  three  of  the  clock.  Rise,  if 
vou  can,  and  dress  yourself  in  these  rags  that  are  left  out  for 
you.  Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  restore  to  you  your  clothes,  which 
are  down-stairs,  because  I  wish  it  to  appear  that  you  have  es- 
caped by  your  own  wit  and  daring.  Quick,  then,  and  put  on 
these  things." 

Then,  as  Jack  was  unable  of  himself  to  stand,  this  Samari- 
tan, for  he  was  nothing  short,  brought  him  a  chair,  and  helped 
him  to  raise  himself  into  it,  and  clothed  him  as  if  he  were  a 
child.  The  things  which  he  had  to  put  on  were  so  old  and 
ragged  that  they  would  scarce  hold  together,  and  they  were  so 
dirty  that  no  ragamuffin  of  the  street  would  have  picked  them 
out  of  the  gutter;  no  scarecrow  in  the  fields  ever  had  such 
clothes.  They  consisted  of  nothing  more  than  a  pair  of  cor- 
duroy breeches  and  a  dirty  old  knitted  waistcoat,  both  in  tat- 
ters and  full  of  holes.  Nevertheless,  when  Jack  had  them  on, 
his  courage  came  back  to  him.  A  man  feels  stronger  when  he 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  201 

has  put  on  his  clothes.     Also,  perhaps,  he  was  already  some- 
what recovered  of  the  blow. 

"  I  feel,"  he  said,  "  as  if  I  could  now  make  some  fight." 

"  It  needs  not,"  the  Parson  replied.  "  Talk  not  of  fighting, 
but  lean  on  me,  and  we  will  try  to  get  down  the  stairs.  Re- 
member, it  is  your  only  chance  to  get  out  of  the  place  before 
these  fellows  awake.  I  have  something  that  may  revive  you. 
Try  now  if  you  can  stand." 

He  could,  though  with  great  difficulty.  Surely  never  was 
there  stranger  figure  than  Jack  at  this  moment.  The  ragged 
waistcoat  was  too  tight  to  button  round  his  chest ;  the  cordu- 
roy breeches  were  too  short  for  so  tall  a  man,  and  showed  his 
bare  knees ;  the  white  silk  stockings  and  the  silver  buckles  ill 
assorted  with  a  dress  so  sordid ;  and,  to  crown  all,  one  side  of 
his  head,  where  the  Parson  had  partly  washed  it,  showed  his 
natural  hair,  with  streaks  of  blood  upon  the  neck;  but  the 
other  side  was  powdered  and  tied  back  with  black  ribbon. 
But  Jack  thought  little  of  his  appearance. 

"  Good,"  said  the  Parson.  "  Now  lean  your  hand  upon  my 
shoulder,  and  we  will  go  slowly." 

"  I  wish  I  was  strong  enough  first  to  handcuff  and  make  fast 
these  rogues,"  said  Jack. 

"  Come,  sir,  your  life  is  at  stake,  and  mine  too — if  that  mat- 
tered. Think  not  upon  revenge." 

"  Aaron,"  said  Jack,  "  my  turn  will  come.  As  for  revenge, 
I  say  not.  I  would  not  kill  him ;  but  tit  for  tat  is  fair.  Easy, 
Aaron — easy.  You  would  make  me  prisoner,  and  ship  me 
for  a  recruit !  Very  well,  Aaron,  very  well.  I  shall  get  my 
turn  soon !  Come,  Parson,  if  that  is  what  you  wish  to  be 
called." 

So  this  strange  parson  supported  him  slowly  and  gently  down 
the  stairs  and  into  the  kitchen,  where  he  found  a  chair  for  him, 
and  set  upon  the  table  cold  meat  and  bread,  and  poured  from 
a  jar  a  glass  of  rum. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  is  not  drugged.  You  can  drink  it  with- 
out fear.  Yet  be  moderate,  for  you  are  still  weak.  So ;  now 
eat  a  little,  but  not  much,  and  then  you  shall  go  away  in  safety. 
But  forget  not  to  thank  God,  who  hath  delivered  you  from 
death  and  from  a  den  where  murders  and  villainies  call  aloud 
for  the  vengeance  which  will  certainly  fall  upon  it." 
9* 


202  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Who,  thought  Jack,  would  expect  an  exhortation  to  religion 
in  a  crimp's  house  ? 

As  he  ate  and  drank  his  strength  came  back  to  him,  although 
he  still  remained  dizzy,  and  somewhat  uncertain  of  step. 

"  Man,"  he  said,  when  he  had  taken  his  supper,  "  who 
and  what  are  you,  and  why  do  you  live  here  among  these 
people  ?" 

"  I  came  here  because  I  am  a  villain,  like  my  masters ;  and  I 
stay  here  because,  like  them  also,  I  have  no  other  way  of  escap- 
ing the  gallows.  Is  that  reason  enough  ?" 

"  They  call  you  Parson  ;  you  wear  a  cassock ;  you  talk  like  a 
scholar.  What  hath  brought  a  scholar  to  such  a  place  ?" 

"  They  may  call  me  bishop,  if  they  please.  I  am  the  ser- 
vant of  these  men.  They  say  unto  me,  *  Go,'  and  I  go ;  or, 
*  Come,'  and  I  obey.  If  there  be  any  greater  degradation  for  a 
scholar  than  to  live  as  cook  and  servant  to  fetch  and  carry  drink 
for  a  crew  of  cut-throat  crimps,  I  would  fain  know  what  it  is. 
Methinks  I  would  offer  to  exchange." 

"Why,"  said  Jack,  "for  the  matter  of  an  exchange,  you 
might  ship  as  purser's  mate,  and  see  -how  you  like  that ;  but 
hang  me  if  I  understand  how  a  clergyman  should  get  to  such  a 
place." 

Jack  now  considered  his  rescuer  more  carefully.  He  was  a 
young  man  not  more  than  five  or  six  and  twenty ;  his  cassock 
was  not  old,  but  it  was  battered  and  stained  with  grease ;  his 
shoes  had  no  buckles,  but  were  tied  with  string  and  were  down 
at  heel ;  his  wig  was  not  one  which  consorted  with  his  sacred 
calling,  being  nothing  better  than  an  old  'prentice's  bob  minor, 
short  in  the  neck,  in  order  to  show  the  buckle  of  the  stock,  and 
as  old  as  any  of  the  worn-out  scratches,  jemmies,  and  bob  majors 
which  the  people  fish  for  at  a  penny  a  dip  in  Petticoat  Lane, 
and  even  a  boy  who  blacks  boots  might  scorn  for  the  purposes 
of  his  trade ;  but  his  face  was  delicate  and  handsome — a  face 
very  far  from  the  dissolute  looks  of  the  fellows  up-stairs. 

"Look  ye,  brother,"  said  Jack,  "you  have  saved  my  life. 
What  can  I  do  for  thee  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  the  Parson  replied.  "  I  am  a  lost  rogue,  though 
not,  I  hope,  beyond  the  reach  of  pardon,  and  you  can  do  noth- 
ing, I  thank  you." 

"  Thou  hast  saved  my  life.     Damme,  rogue  or  not,  take  my 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  203 

hand.  Nay,"  for  the  other  hesitated,  "  I  will  have  it.  Give 
me  thy  hand.  Now,  then,  we  are  brothers.  What  hast  thon 
done  ?" 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  that  I  am  an  ordained  clergyman  of 
the  Church  of  England.  Unworthy  that  I  am,  I  may  call  my- 
self a  clerk  in  holy  orders." 

"  I  am  in  a  very  pretty  rig  for  an  officer  in  the  king's  service ; 
but  hang  me  if  you  are  not  in  worse  for  a  parson." 

"  Sir,"  the  poor  man  began,  with  hanging  head,  "  I  lost  my 
curacy  by  the  death  of  my  rector,  and  I  could  get  no  other,  nor 
any  preferment  at  all,  not  even  the  smallest,  having  no  interest 
and  being  unknown  to  any  bishop  or  private  patron.  Then  I 
quickly  spent  my  little  stock — not,  I  can  truthfully  avow,  in  ex- 
travagance, or  waste,  or  vicious  courses ;  and  I  presently  found 
that  I  had  nothing  left  but  one  poor  shilling.  This  I  was 
unwilling  to  spend,  and  I  walked  about  the  streets  picking  up 
crusts  or  turnips  that  had  been  dropped  into  the  gutter,  until  I 
became  well-nigh  desperate.  Sir,  you  see  before  you  a  common 
footpad.  Dressed  as  I  was  in  the  cassock  of  my  profession,  I 
ventured  to  stop  a  gentleman  in  the  street,  and  to  demand  his 
money  or  his  life." 

"  Did  he  give  you  his  money  ?" 

"  No.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  man  of  courage — a  thing  which 
I  had  not  looked  for.  Therefore  he  drew  his  sword,  and  I  fled, 
he  running  after  me,  crying '  Stop  thief !  stop  thief  !'  I  escaped, 
and  got  home  unperceived,  as  I  thought,  to  my  lodging.  Never 
again  shall  I  hear  that  cry  without  a  knife  piercing  my  heart. 
The  next  day  I  went  to  the  nearest  coffee-house,  meditating 
death  by  my  own  hands.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  be  a  suicide, 
but  worse  is  it  to  live  among  these  rogues.  I  fell  in  with  the 
captain,  as  they  call  him,  the  owner  of  this  house  and  another 
like  it  in  Chancery  Lane.  He,  perceiving  my  trouble,  accosted 
me,  and  presently  brought  me  here  and  gave  me  strong  drink, 
under  which  I  told  him  all." 

"  But  why  do  you  stop  here  against  your  will  ?" 

"  Because,  alas !  the  hue-and-cry  is  out  after  me.  In  some 
way — I  know  not  how — the  gentleman  I  thought  to  rob  found 
means  to  know  my  name.  If  I  venture  forth  I  shall  be  arrested, 
and  presently  hanged.  For  that  I  must  not  complain,  because 
the  punishment  might  be  taken  mercifully  in  atonement  for  my 


204  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

offence.  But  there  are  others — "  here  he  choked,  and  the  tears 
came  into  his  eyes. 

He  drew  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  Jack.  It 
was  a  piece  of  a  Gazette : 

"  Last  evening  we  hear  that  a  robbery  was  attempted  about 
ten  o'clock  in  Chancery  Lane  by  a  man  dressed  as  a  clergyman, 
who  stopped  a  gentleman  and  demanded  his  money  or  his  life, 
but  being  confronted  by  a  drawn  sword,  ran  away.  The  villain 
succeeded  in  escaping,  but  will  be  discovered,  the  gentleman  be- 
ing confident  that  he  knows  who  he  is,  and  can  swear  to  him." 

"  How  long  ago  was  this  ?" 

"  It  is  now  six  months.  I  have  entreated  the  captain  to  ship 
me  with  the  rest,  but  he  will  not,  saying  that  he  hath  never  had 
in  the  house  a  servant  who  would  neither  steal  nor  drink." 

"  Six  months !  Why,  man,  a  hue-and-cry  that  is  six  months 
old  !  Courage  !  Tell  me  thy  name." 

The  poor  man  made  a  clean  breast  of  all,  telling  him  his 
name,  and  trusting  him,  in  short,  with  his  neck.  But  no  one 
could  converse  with  Jack  or  look  into  his  face  without  trusting 
him.  As  for  his  name,  it  must  not  be  set  down.  For  the  man 
who  had  thus  sunk  to  the  lowest  ignominy  was  presently  en- 
abled to  return  to  his  own  station  and  his  sacred  profession,  no 
one  knowing  aught  of  what  had  happened.  Not  only  did  he 
resume  his  ministry,  but  he  obtained  a  curacy,  and  in  time  re- 
ceived preferment,  being  now  the  incumbent  of  a  London  church, 
and  greatly  beloved  for  his  devotion,  eloquence,  and  learning, 
so  that  it  is  thought  by  many  that  if  promotion  goes  by  merit 
he  may  soon  become  a  bishop.  And  since  no  one  knows,  ex- 
cept myself,  this  episode  of  his  early  manhood,  let  the  thing 
remain  forever  a  secret. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  the  time  is  getting  on. 
Go  while  the  way  is  clear.  Go,  sir.  And  forget  this  vile  house 
and  the  unhappy  men  that  are  in  it." 

"  As  for  forgetting  the  house,"  said  Jack,  "  you  shall  see  how 
I  will  forget  the  house." 

"  You  must  go  away  dressed  as  you  are,  because  I  would  not 
be  suspected.  Wherefore  I  shall  leave  the  door  unlocked  and 
unbarred.  Here  is  a  cudgel  for  you,  but  you  will  not  need  it. 
All  the  rogues  of  Wapping — whose  name  is  Legion — are  asleep 
at  this  hour.  Go,  then,  and  remember  that  never,  even  in  bat- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  205 

tie,  will  you  be  nearer  unto  death  than  you  have  been  this 
night." 

He  opened  the  door,  which  was  carefully  locked  and  bolted, 
and  set  the  prisoner  free. 

It  was  now  past  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  still  quite 
dark.  The  cold  air  made  Jack  shiver  in  his  rags,  but  it  revived 
and  refreshed  him.  He  looked  up  and  down  the  street.  There 
were  no  passengers  at  that  hour  save  the  market-gardeners' 
carts,  which  were  already  lumbering  along,  filled  with  vege- 
tables, to  the  markets  of  the  Fleet  and  Covent  Garden ;  the 
rest  of  the  world  was  still  sleeping.  Then  he  surveyed  the 
house  carefully. 

"  '  Forget  this  house,'  quoth  his  reverence  ?  I  shall  first  for- 
get Aaron  Fletcher." 

It  was  too  dark  to  observe  particularly  any  distinguishing 
marks.  There  was  no  sign  hung  out.  The  ground-floor  was 
lower  than  the  street,  and  the  upper  story,  which  projected  two 
feet  and  more,  and  looked  as  if  it  were  going  to  fall  at  any  mo- 
ment, had  thick  bars  outside  the  windows.  "  I  shall  know  the 
house  again,"  said  Jack,  "  by  the  bars.  And  now,  gentlemen, 
sleep  on  and  dream — I  wish  you  pleasant  dreams — until  I  come 
back,  which  will  be,  I  take  it,  before  you  have  yet  awakened." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A     RUDE     AWAKENING. 

ABOUT  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when,  at  this  time  of  year, 
it  is  already  daylight,  there  marched  down  the  high  street  of 
Wapping  a  company  seen  there  often  enough  in  the  evening, 
when  they  are  expected  and  men  are  prepared  for  them,  but 
seldom  so  early.  Who,  indeed,  expects  a  press-gang  at  day- 
break? The  party  consisted  of  a  dozen  sailors,  armed  each 
with  a  short  cudgel,  and  a  lieutenant  in  command,  with  a  drawn 
cutlass.  With  the  officer  walked  a  tall  man,  young,  bareheaded, 
and  strangely  attired  in  a  ragged  knitted  waistcoat,  tattered 
breeches  tied  up  with  a  string  and  loose  at  the  knees,  and  y'et 
with  white  silk  stockings,  shoes  with  silver  buckles,  and,  on 
one  side  only,  powdered  hair.  The  streets  at  this  time  are  al- 


206  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

•ready  full  of  those  who  are  hastening  to  the  day's  work ;  most 
of  the  houses  are  open,  and  the  maids  are  at  the  doors  twirling 
their  mops,  or  at  the  windows  throwing  open  the  shutters ;  or, 
in  the  more  genteel  houses,  they  are  plastering  the  door-steps 
with  yellow  ochre. 

'Twas  indeed  the  press-gang,  more  dreaded  than  revenue 
officers  or  Bow  Street  runners,  and  its  appearance  at  this  early 
hour  caused  everywhere  the  liveliest  curiosity  and  the  greatest 
consternation.  Those  who  met  them  either  stopped  still  to 
look  after  them,  their  faces  full  of  apprehension,  or  they  ran 
into  open  houses,  or  they  fled  without  a  word,  or  they  turned 
into  a  side  street  or  court,  for  fear  of  being  taken  for  sailors. 
Many  of  those  who  fled  were  landsmen  and  honest  mechanics, 
because,  when  the  press  is  hot,  it  does  not  always  respect  lands- 
men, although  the  law  is  peremptory  against  taking  any  but 
sailors.  This  company,  however,  paid  no  heed  to  any,  whether 
they  ran  or  whether  they  stood,  marching  along  without  at- 
tempting to  seize  them,  though  some  of  the  men  were  Thames 
watermen,  and  others  were  lightermen,  and  some  dockmen,  and 
others  mere  river  pirates  and  plunderers,  or,  as  they  call  them, 
receivers,  copemen,  rat-catchers,  coopers,  mud-larks,  light  horse- 
men, and  lumpers,  all  of  whom  have  been  held  to  be  sailors 
within  the  meaning  of  the  act. 

Presently  the  man  in  rags,  who  seemed  to  be  leading  the 
party,  stopped  and  looked  about  him. 

"  Ay,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  this  to  be  the  house.  Now,  my 
lads,  steady  all ;  for  we  have  'em,  neat  and  tidy,  just  as  if  they 
were  so  many  rats  caught  in  a  bag." 

As  soon  as  the  people  in  the  street  understood — this  took 
them  no  long  time — that  the  press  (out,  no  doubt,  on  some 
special  and  unusual  business  of  the  greatest  importance)  was 
actually  going  to  visit  the  crimp's  house,  probably  in  search  of 
the  malingerers,  deserters,  or  cowardly  skulkers  often  lying 
there,  in  hope  to  be  snug  and  out  of  the  way,  there  was  a  lively 
curiosity.  For  skulkers  these  people  entertain  a  mingled  curios- 
ity and  contempt — the  former  on  account  of  their  cunning  at 
disguise  and  hiding,  and  the  latter  because,  the  sea  being  their 
trade,  they  will  not  bravely  follow  it.  The  workman,  no  longer 
fearful  of  his  own  safety,  stopped  to  look  on,  his  tools  in  his 
bag,  careless  if  he  should  be  late  at  his  shop ;  the  waterman, 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          207 

who,  at  first  sight  of  the  party,  trembled  for  himself,  stopped 
on  his  way  to  the  Stairs  where  he  plied,  though  he  might  thereby 
lose  an  early  fare,  and  stood  curious  to  see  what  might  happen, 
blowing  into  his  fingers  to  keep  them  warm ;  the  maids  came 
out  from  the  house  doors  and  stood  around,  mop  in  hand,  ex- 
pressing at  first  their  opinions  of  the  press,  without  any  fear  of 
the  lieutenant,  or  respect  to  authority — there  are  certainly  no 
such  enemies  of  good  government  as  the  women.  But  when 
these  honest  girls  found  that  the  press  was  not  come  to  carry 
off  their  lovers,  but  in  order  to  visit  the  house  about  which 
there  was  so  much  mystery,  and  concerning  which  there  were 
told  so  many  stories,  they  stopped  their  abuse,  and  waited  to 
see  what  would  come  of  it.  Within  those  barred  windows 
strange  things  were  carried  on.  Terrible  stories  are  told  of 
crimps'  houses.  Fearful  sounds  had  been  heard  proceeding 
from  this  house ;  shrieks  and  cries  for  mercy,  and  the  tram- 
pling of  feet.  Sometimes  there  was  singing,  with  laughter,  and 
the  noise  of  men  making  merry  over  drink ;  sometimes  there 
were  loud  quarrels,  with  the  noise  of  fighting.  Those  who  en- 
tered this  house  were  generally  carried  in  ;  those  who  came  out 
were  generally  carried  out.  It  was  said  that  sometimes  those 
who  were  carried  out  were  not  drunk,  but  dead ;  and  that  they 
were  not  put  into  the  boat  to  be  shipped  on  board  an  East- 
Indiaman,  but  to  be  dropped  into  the  river  at  mid-stream,  with  a 
stone  tied  to  their  feet.  Therefore  the  crowd,  which  increased 
every  moment,  looked  on  with  satisfaction.  They  might  now  be 
enabled  to  see  for  themselves  what  manner  of  house  this  was. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Jack  to  the  lieutenant  in  command,  "  that 
if  you  would  leave  two  men  at  the  door,  we  can  with  the  re- 
mainder very  easily  dispose  of  the  rogues  in  the  house,  whether 
they  are  awake  or  asleep." 

The  house  was  not  astir  yet ;  the  door  was  not  yet  opened ; 
the  shutters  of  the  ground-floor  windows  were  not  yet  thrown 
back.  It  looked,  in  the  broad  daylight,  a  dirty,  disgraceful 
den ;  the  doors  and  shutters  black  with  dirt  and  want  of  paint ; 
the  windows  of  the  upper  stories  seemed  as  if  they  had  never 
been  cleaned  since  they  had  first  been  put  up,  and  some  of  the 
panes  of  glass  were  broken. 

"  If  they  are  awake,  they  will  fight,"  said  Jack.  "  But  they 
have  no  pistols,  so  far  as  I  could  see." 


208  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

The  door  yielded  to  a  push.  The  parson  had,  therefore,  left 
the  door  as  if  Jack  had  escaped  by  unlocking  and  unbarring  it. 

Jack  led  the  way  up-stairs,  and  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
room  in  which  he  had  so  nearly  met  a  horrid  and  violent  death. 
Behold  !  All  the  men  were  lying  just  as  they  had  fallen,  some 
on  their  faces,  some  on  their  backs,  their  mouths  open,  and 
breathing  heavily.  The  fire  was  out,  and  the  air  of  the  place 
was  horribly  close  and  ill-smelling. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Jack,  as  the  lieutenant  followed  him. 
"  Saw  one  ever  lustier  rogues  ?  Here  is  a  haul  for  you." 

"  They  are  dressed  like  sailors,"  said  the  lieutenant,  looking 
at  them  with  curiosity  and  misgiving.  "But  I  doubt  it.  I 
have  never  known  crimps'  men  to  be  sailors.  Mostly  this  sort 
are  river-side  rogues,  and  to  take  them  on  board  would  only  be 
to  put  into  the  fo'k's'le  so  many  past-masters  in  all  villainy." 

"  That  is  true,"  Jack  replied,  "  and  I  doubt  they  will  want 
continual  smartening  from  the  bo's'n ;  and  such  mutinous  dogs 
that  they  will  at  first  spend  half  their  time  in  the  triangles. 
Yet  if  you  refuse  them  I  must  needs  have  them  hanged ;  and 
this  I  am  not,  I  confess,  willing  to  do,  because  there  is  one 
other  who  must  then  hang  with  them.  And  I  would  not,  if  I 
could  avoid  it,  compass  his  death." 

"  Then  I  will  press  them,"  said  the  lieutenant,  making  up 
his  mind.  "  Ready  with  the  handcuffs  !  Stand  by  !  Hand- 
cuff every  man !" 

The  sailors  pulled  them  up  one  after  the  other,  waking  them 
with  kicks  and  cuffs,  and  made  each  man  safe.  Thus,  shaken 
violently  out  of  their  sleep,  they  stood  gazing  stupidly  at  each 
other,  still  only  half  awake,  and  not  knowing  what  had  befallen 
them,  or  where  they  were,  or  anything  at  all. 

"  Bring  them  down-stairs,  and  into  the  open,"  the  lieutenant 
commanded.  "Rouse  up  every  one  of  them  with  the  pump. 
Now  for  the  rest  of  the  house." 

"  I  believe  there  are  no  other  sailors  here,"  said  Jack ;  "  only 
two  or  three  poor  devils  in  hiding  till  they  can  be  shipped  for 
the  East  Indies." 

The  men  went  through  the  house,  and  presently  returned, 
bringing  four  or  five  prisoners — namely,  the  recruits  of  the 
company.  A  most  valuable  addition  they  would  have  made  to 
the  service,  truly,  for  a  more  scarecrow,  terrified  crew  could  not 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  209 

be  found,  anywhere.  As  for  the  'prentice,  a  white-faced,  puny 
wretch,  who  had  robbed  his  master's  till,  at  the  sight  of  the 
officer  with  a  drawn  sword,  and  the  men,  their  faces  fierce  and 
unrelenting,  standing  round,  he  immediately  imagined  that  they 
were  all  come  for  his  own  arrest,  and  that  this  was  the  first  step 
towards  Newgate  and  the  gallows.  Wherefore  he  fell  upon  his 
knees,  blubbering. 

"  Alas  !"  he  cried.  "  I  am  a  miserable  sinner.  I  confess  all. 
I  have  robbed  my  master.  Oh !  let  me  have  mercy.  Let  me 
live,  and  I  will  pay  all  back.  Only  let  me  live  !"  And  so  on, 
as  if  the  noose  was  already  ready  for  him,  and  the  rope  hitched 
to  the  gallows. 

The  next  was  a  sturdier  rogue.  He  would  have  been  hanged 
for  coining  false  money  had  he  been  caught.  But  he  under- 
stood that  a  company  of  sailors  is  not  sent  forth  to  arrest  men 
charged  with  civil  offences.  Therefore,  and  in  order  to  save 
his  neck,  he  very  readily  volunteered,  and,  being  a  brisk,  smart 
lad,  though  a  rogue  from  childhood,  and  a  thief,  forger,  coiner, 
and  pickpocket,  I  dare  say  he  turned  out  as  good  a  sailor  as 
can  be  expected  of  a  landsman ;  and  if  he  could  not  go  aloft 
to  bend  or  reef  a  sail,  he  could  help  to  man  a  gun  and  carry  a 
pike.  The  third  man  was  the  deserter,  who  represented  him- 
self as  a  man  milliner,  and  was  suffered  to  go  free,  because 
milliners  are  of  little  use  on  a  man-o'-war;  the  next  was  a 
bankrupt,  once  a  substantial  tradesman,  who  had  ruined  him- 
self with  drink  and  vicious  courses,  and  came  voluntarily  to  the 
crimp's  to  be  enlisted  in  the  Company's  service,  in  order  to  es- 
cape his  creditors.  But  his  face  was  so  puffed  and  purple  with 
drink,  his  limbs  so  trembled  beneath  him,  that  I  doubt  whether 
he  would  have  lasted  the  voyage.  There  was  another,  whose 
wife  was  a  termagant,  and  extravagant  to  boot,  and  he  was  fly- 
ing from  her  and  from  her  debts.  He,  too,  offered  to  volun- 
teer, saying  that  he  would  rather  dwell  with  the  devil  than  with 
his  wife  ;  but  the  lieutenant  would  not  have  him.  And  another 
there  was  who  was  a  broken  gamester,  a  gentleman  by  birth, 
and  a  physician  from  Glasgow  University,  a  native  of  Jamaica, 
where  he  had  at  first  a  good  fortune,  but  was  now  fallen  from 
his  former  condition,  without  friends,  estate,  or  money,  and  held 
no  other  hope  except  to  take  service  with  the  Company.  There 
were  one  or  two  others,  but  all  of  them,  except  the  false  coiner, 


210  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

the  lieutenant,  without  inquiring  further  into  their  characters 
or  their  histories,  ordered  to  go  about  their  business ;  but  as 
for  the  'prentice,  who  still  blubbered  that  he  was  a  repentant 
sinner,  and  asked  permission  only  to  live,  he  fetched  him  a  box 
o'  the  ears  and  a  kick,  and  bade  him  go  his  way  and  be  hanged. 

This  poor  wretch,  who  had  been  torn  partly  with  terror  at 
the  thought  of  going  to  the  Indies  to  fight,  being  a  desperate 
coward,  and  partly  with  remorse,  made  haste  to  obey  the  lieu- 
tenant, and  departed ;  and  what  became  of  him,  whether  he 
went  to  his  master  and  confessed  and  obtained  pardon,  or 
whether  he  was  thrown  into  Newgate  and  hanged,  or  whether 
he  fell  into  worse  courses,  I  know  not — "The  way  of  trans- 
gressors," saith  Holy  Writ,  "  is  hard." 

There  remained  the  Parson,  who  said  nothing,  but  waited 
patiently  for  his  fate. 

"As  for  this  man,"  said  Jack,  laying  his  hand  upon  his 
shoulder,  "  he  is  my  prisoner.  Leave  him  to  me." 

This,  then,  was  Jack's  revenge.  He  might  have  seen  the 
men  swing — and  they  deserved  nothing  short  of  hanging — but 
it  pleased  him  better  to  think  of  these  fat,  tender-skinned,  deli- 
cate, overfed,  and  drunken  rogues,  as  cowardly  as  they  were 
pampered,  howling  under  the  lash,  and  mutinously  grumbling 
under  the  discipline  of  a  king's  ship.  They  were  mere  lands- 
men, who  had  never  been  to  sea  at  all,  even  if  they  had  ever 
been  on  board  a  ship  (if  they  had,  it  was  only  to  look  for  some- 
thing to  steal).  But  they  had  lived  on  the  river-side  all  their 
lives,  and  knew  the  talk  of  sailors ;  and  they  equipped  them- 
selves— a  part  of  their  trade — in  slops  and  round  jackets,  the 
better  to  decoy  their  victims. 

The  men  were  still  so  stupid  with  the  drug  they  had  taken 
that  they  understood  nothing  of  what  was  done  until  they  had 
first  had  their  heads  held  under  the  pump  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Then  they  began  to  remember  what  had  happened; 
and,  seeing  their  late  prisoner  with  the  party  of  captors,  they 
cast  rueful  looks  at  one  another,  and,  like  the  poor  'prentice, 
looked  for  nothing  short  of  Newgate,  and  for  the  fatal  cart  and 
the  ride  to  Tyburn — which,  indeed,  for  this  and  many  other 
crimes,  they  richly  deserved. 

It  would  have  gone  hard  with  Aaron  had  this  been  the  des- 
tination intended  for  them  by  their  victim.  Nothing  is  more 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          211 

distasteful  to  a  rogue  than  to  hang  alone,  when  his  brother 
rogues  have  escaped.  It  offends  his  sense  of  justice.  Perhaps, 
however,  the  going  out  of  the  world  in  so  violent  a  manner,  in 
company  with  an  old  friend,  is  felt  to  be  less  cold  and  com- 
fortless than  to  go  alone.  But  Aaron,  as  well  as  these  men, 
was  reserved  for  another  fate. 

This  business  despatched,  and  the  men,  now  fully  awake, 
drawn  up  two  and  two  in  readiness  to  march,  Jack  addressed 
them  with  great  courtesy,  though  the  sailors  of  the  press 
grinned  and  put  tongue  in  cheek. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  last  night  your  honors  were  good 
enough  to  offer  me  the  hospitality  of  your  house ;  you  also  de- 
bated very  seriously  whether  you  should  not  murder  me ;  that 
you  did  not  do  so  is  the  cause  why  your  honors  are  now  hand- 
cuffed. You  will  go  with  these  honest  sailors,  and  you  will 
thank  me  henceforth  every  day  of  your  lives  for  my  goodness 
in  getting  you  impressed.  Such  brave  lads  as  you  will  rejoice 
to  run  up  aloft  in  a  gale  of  wind ;  and  the  enemy's  shot  you 
will  value  no  more  than  a  waterman's  jest.  You  are  so  smart 
that  the  bo's'n's  supple-jack  will  never  curl  about  your  shoul- 
ders, nor  his  rope's-end  make  your  fat  legs  jump.  As  to  drink, 
I  fear  there  has  been  more  punch  served  out  in  this  house  than 
is  good  for  your  health ;  that  is  better  ordered  aboard.  And 
it  will  do  your  honors  good  to  see  each  other  made  fast  to  the 
triangles  while  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  sweetly  tickles  his  fat  back. 
Perhaps  you  fresh-water  sailors  know  not  the  tickling  of  the 
cat.  Gentlemen,  you  have  a  truly  happy  life  before  you.  I 
wish  your  honors  farewell." 

It  was  the  first  speech  Jack  ever  made.  If  it  was  not  elo- 
quent, it  was  to  the  point  and  intelligible. 

I  do  not  think  that  the  fellows  understood  one  word  of  what 
he  said,  being  fully  possessed  with  the  belief  that  they  were 
going  to  Newgate  and  afterwards  to  be  hanged.  And  when 
they  presently  found  themselves  taken  on  board  the  tender  and 
shoved  below-deck,  and  understood  that  they  were  pressed  for 
sailors,  at  first  they  grinned  with  joy.  One  who  is  threatened 
with  death  counts  escape  on  any  conditions,  even  the  hardest, 
a  thing  to  be  welcomed  with  joy  unspeakable.  But  when  they 
discovered,  after  a  few  days'  experience  on  board,  what  was 
meant  by  service  at  sea — a  life  of  little  ease,  hard  work,  and 


212  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

short  time  for  sleep,  and  rough  food,  with  the  kicks  and  con- 
tempt whieh  all  true  man-o'-war's-men  show  for  lubbers,  a  lim- 
ited ration  of  rum,  and  the  necessity  of  immediate  obedience — 
some  of  them  fell  into  despair,  and  would  skulk  below  till  they 
were  driven  upward  by  the  bo'sVs  supple-jack  and  the  gunner's 
rattan,  and  these  laid  on  in  no  stinted  or  niggard  spirit.  Some 
became  mutinous  and  insubordinate ;  none  of  them  knew  any- 
thing of  a  seaman's  duties,  in  spite  of  their  sailor's  dress,  and 
were  useless  save  for  the  simplest  work.  Therefore  it  naturally 
came  to  pass  that  before  long,  one  after  another,  they  were  tied 
up  and  soundly  trounced,  whereupon,  their  backs  being  soft 
and  tender  and  unused  to  the  lash,  and  their  dispositions 
cowardly,  and  being  ignorant  of  discipline  and  respect  to  their 
officers,  when  prayers  for  pity  failed,  they  fell  to  cursing  the 
captain  and  the  lieutenants,  the  bo's'n,  and  the  ship's  crew, 
shrieking  and  screaming  like  mad  women.  So  that  they  stayed 
where  they  were  for  another  six  dozen,  and  this  admonition 
and  instruction  were  repeated  until  they  were  finally  made  to 
understand  that  a  man-o'-war  is  not  a  crimp's  house,  nor  a  tav- 
ern at  Wapping,  where  every  man  can  call  for  what  he  chooses, 
sleep  as  long  as  he  pleases,  and  take  his  pleasure ;  but  a  place 
where  work  has  to  be  done,  orders  must  be  obeyed,  and  pun- 
ishment in  default  is  as  certain  as  the  striking  of  eight  bells. 
Whether  any  of  them  ever  returned  I  know  not,  but  the  house 
was  broken  up  and  their  old  occupation  was  destroyed,  though  no 
doubt  other  crimps'  houses  were  soon  established  in  their  place. 

When  the  press-gang  were  gone  there  remained  Jack,  still  in 
his  rags,  and  the  unlucky  recruits. 

"As  for  you  fellows,"  he  said,  "my  advice  is,  sheer  off. 
This  house  is  closed.  There  is  no  shelter  for  you  here.  Go 
and  hide  elsewhere." 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?"  asked  the  poor  gamester.  "  Here  at 
least  we  got  meat  and  drink.  Whither  shall  we  go  ?" 

They  obeyed,  however,  and  went  out  together,  parting  at  the 
door  and  skulking  away  in  different  directions,  perhaps  to  be 
picked  up  by  another  crimp. 

"  Brother,"  said  Jack  to  the  parson,  "  come  with  me.  First  let 
me  put  on  my  own  clothes,  and  then  we  will  find  a  lodging  for 
thee.  Thou  hast  saved  my  life.  Therefore,  so  long  as  I  have 
a  guinea  left,  thou  shalt  have  the  half." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  213 

At  first  the  poor  man  refused.  He  burst  into  tears,  declar- 
ing that  kindness  was  thrown  away  upon  a  wretch  so  disgraced 
and  degraded  as  himself;  that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to 
stay  where  he  was,  and  to  receive  with  resignation  the  evils 
which  he  had  brought  upon  his  own  head.  "  What,"  he  asked, 
"  can  be  done  for  a  man  for  whose  apprehension  a  reward  is 
offered  and  the  hue-and-cry  is  out  ?" 

"  Hark  ye,  brother,"  Jack  repeated,  "  thou  hast  saved  my 
life.  If  thou  wilt  not  come  with  me  willingly,  hang  me  but  I 
will  drag  thee  along!  What!  wouldst  remain  alone  in  this 
den  ?  Come,  I  say,  and  be  treated  for  thine  own  good.  What ! 
There  was  no  robbery,  after  all.  As  for  the  hue-and-cry,  leave 
that  to  me.  I  will  tackle  the  hue-and-cry,  which  I  value  not 
an  inch  of  rogues'  yarn." 

I  do  not  know  what  he  understood  by  the  hue-and-cry,  or 
how  he  was  going  to  tackle  it ;  but,  being  always  a  masterful 
man,  who  would  ever  have  his  own  way,  he  overcame  the  par- 
son's scruples,  and  presently  had  him  away  and  safely  bestowed 
in  a  tavern  at  Aldgate,  where  he  engaged  a  room  for  him,  and 
sent  for  a  tailor,  making  the  parson  put  off  his  tattered  cassock 
and  his  old  wig,  and  sit  in  a  nightcap  and  shirt-sleeves  until 
he  was  provided  with  clothes  suitable  to  his  profession,  and  a 
wig  such  as  proclaimed  it.  Then  Jack  bade  him  rest  quiet  a 
day  or  two,  and  be  careful  how  he  stirred  abroad,  while  he  him- 
self made  inquiries  into  his  case,  and  this  matter  of  the  hue- 
and-cry. 

Now  mark,  if  you  please,  the  villainy  of  the  man  Jonathan 
Rayment.  There  never  had  been  any  reward  offered  for  the 
arrest  of  this  poor  man  at  all ;  there  was  no  hue-and-cry  after 
him ;  the  gentleman  whom,  in  the  madness  of  his  despair,  he 
had  thought  to  rob,  had  not  followed  and  tracked  him ;  noth- 
ing was  known  about  him  at  all ;  and  his  friends  were  wonder- 
ing where  he  was,  and  why  he  sent  no  letters  to  them.  The 
story  of  the  hue-and-cry  and  the  reward  was  invented  by  Mr. 
Rayment,  who  was,  I  believe,  eldest  son  to  the  Father  of  Lies, 
in  order  to  keep  the  unhappy  man  in  his  power,  so  that  he 
could  use  him  as  the  servant  (or  slave)  of  the  house  as  long  as 
he  pleased  ;  or,  if  he  thought  it  would  be  more  profitable,  could 
ship  him  as  a  recruit  at  any  time.  And  while  he  was  persuad- 
ing this  contrite  sinner  that  the  whole  town  rang  with  his  wick- 


214  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

edness,  no  one  in  the  world  knew  anything  about  it,  and  there 
was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  go  openly  to  the  St.  Paul's 
coffee-house  and  sit  among  his  fellow-divines.  Briefly,  Jack 
shared,  half  and  half,  all  the  money  he  had  with  this  poor  man, 
who  presently  obtained  a  lectureship,  and  afterwards  a  City 
church,  and  is  now,  as  I  have  already  stated,  a  most  worthy, 
pious,  devout,  learned  preacher,  benevolent,  eloquent,  and  ortho- 
dox, justly  beloved  by  all  his  congregation,  and,  I  dare  affirm,v 
none  the  worse  because  in  his  youth  he  experienced  the  temp- 
tation of  poverty,  was  even  suffered  to  fall  into  sin,  felt  the 
pangs  of  remorse  and  shame,  and  endured  the  torments  of 
companionship  with  the  most  devilish  kind  of  men  that  dwell 
among  us  in  this  our  town  of  London. 

So  they,  too,  went  away,  Jack  being  restored  to  his  own  gar- 
ments, though  his  purse,  containing  four  or  five  guineas,  was 
not  in  his  pocket.  And  now  the  house  was  empty.  The  crowd 
had  broken  up  and  gone  away,  but  the  neighbors  still  gathered 
about,  talking  over  the  strange  business  of  the  morning.  Pres- 
ently they  began  to  look  in  at  the  open  door.  There  were  no 
sounds  or  sign  of  occupation.  Then  they  opened  the  doors  of 
the  rooms,  and  looked  curiously  about  them.  The  lower  rooms 
were  furnished  with  benches  and  tables,  the  wainscot  walls  gap- 
ing where  the  wood  had  shrunk,  and  the  floors  made  brown 
with  soot  and  small-beer  to  hide  the  dirt.  There  was  a  kitch- 
en, with  a  pot  and  frying-pan  and  some  pewter  dishes,  tin  pan- 
nikins and  some  remains  of  food,  and,  which  was  much  more 
to  the  purpose,  there  was  a  small  cask  of  rum,  three  fourths 
full.  The  neighbors  made  haste  to  taste  the  rum  provided,  be- 
ing curious  to  discover  whether  it  was  a  stronger  and  more 
generous  liquor  than  that  to  which  they  were  themselves  accus- 
tomed. In  a  few  minutes  the  rumor  of  this  cask  spread  to 
right  and  left  along  the  street,  and  everybody  hastened  to  taste 
the  rum,  and  continued  to  taste  it  until  there  was  no  more  left. 
It  was  strong  enough  and  generous  enough  to  send  them  away 
with  staggering  legs  and  fuddled  brains.  Up-stairs  there  were 
bedrooms  with  flock  mattresses  laid  upon  the  floor,  and  in  one 
room  there  were  rings  and  staples  and  chains  fixed  in  the  wall 
for  safely  securing  mutinous  recruits.  But  all  the  rooms  were 
foul  and  filthy. 

When  the  neighbors  went  out  the  boys  came  in  and  took 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  215 

possession  joyfully,  with  no  one  to  check  or  hinder  their  mis- 
chief. Never  before  had  boys  such  a  chance.  When  they  left 
the  house  there  was  not  a  whole  pane  of  glass  left  in  the  win- 
dows, nor  a  bench,  chair,  or  table  that  was  not  broken,  nor  any 
single  thing  left  that  could  be  carried  away. 

Next  day  the  "  captain  " — that  is,  the  worthy  dealer  in  curi- 
osities, of  Leman  Street,  Mr.  Jonathan  Rayment — himself  walked 
over  to  Wapping,  in  order  to  inquire  into  the  health  and  wel- 
fare of  his  recruits  and  their  numbers ;  he  was  also  anxious  to 
know  what  had  happened  in  the  adventure  with  the  king's 
officer. 

You  may  understand  his  surprise  and  dismay  when  he  found 
everybody  gone  and  everything  broken.  They  had  even  torn 
away  the  wooden  balusters  and  ripped  up  the  wooden  steps. 
Nothing  was  left  at  all — not  even  those  poor,  helpless  creatures, 
the  'prentice  and  the  parson.  Where  could  they  be  ? 

He  did  not  dare  to  ask.  Something  terrible  had  happened. 
As  for  himself,  he  hurried  home  to  hide  himself  in  his  shop 
until  the  danger  was  over.  A  curse  upon  Aaron  Fletcher,  and 
on  his  own  foolishness  in  suffering  his  men  to  meddle  with 
Aaron's  private  quarrels !  And  a  good  business  now  broken 
up  and  destroyed ;  for  how  could  the  house  be  carried  on  with- 
out his  men  ? 

He  looked  to  hear  an  account  of  his  men  in  the  Gazette ; 
how  they  were  brought  before  the  lord  mayor  and  charged 
with  highway  robbery,  and  even  sent  to  Newgate  for  trial. 
Strange !  There  was  nothing.  Nor  did  this  worthy  trades- 
man ever  learn  what  had  happened,  for  Aaron  could  tell  him 
nothing,  except  that  the  lieutenant  had  escaped ;  and  he  never 
dared  venture  to  ask  in  Wapping.  But  he  lost  his  servants  and 
his  recruits,  and  for  a  long  time  the  business  of  crimping  in 
those  parts  languished. 

One  thing  remains  to  be  told  about  this  eventful  day.  In 
the  evening,  work  being  over,  Aaron  Fletcher  was  sitting  alone, 
his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  in  the  cottage  where  he  lived,  at  the 
gates  of  his  boat-building  yard.  He  was  in  good  spirits, 
because  the  lieutenant  was  reported  missing.  Perhaps  he 
was  dead.  It  would  be  the  best  thing  in  the  world  if  he  was 
dead.  What  then  ?  No  one  could  say  that  he  had  any  hand 
in  it. 


216  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Aaron  !"  cried  a  voice  he  knew — "  Aaron  Fletcher,  open  the 
door !" 

He  dropped  his  pipe  and  turned  pale,  and  his  teeth  chattered. 
It  was  the  lieutenant's  voice,  and  he  thought  it  sounded  hollow. 
He  was  dead,  then,  and  this  was  his  ghost  come  to  plague  him. 
Aaron  was  a  man  of  courage,  but  he  was  not  prepared  to  tackle 
a  ghost. 

"  Aaron,"  the  voice  repeated,  "  open  the  door,  or  I  will  break 
it  in,  ye  murderous  villain.  Open  the  door,  I  say  !" 

Aaron  obeyed,  his  cheeks  ashy  white,  and  his  heart  in  his 
boots. 

It  was  no  ghost,  however,  but  the  lieutenant  in  the  flesh, 
tall  and  gallant,  and  apparently  none  the  worse  for  the  night's 
adventure,  who  walked  in,  followed  by  Mr.  Brinjes.  He  was 
arrayed  in  his  great  wig  and  velvet  coat,  in  honor  of  the  club, 
whither  he  was  going.  This  splendor  added  weight  to  the 
words  which  followed. 

"  Aaron,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  or  Cain  the  murderer,  if  you 
like  the  name  better,  there  was,  last  night,  a  purse  in  my  pock- 
et, containing,  as  near  as  I  can  remember,  the  sum  of  five  guin- 
eas and  a  crown.  Your  friends  have  taken  it  from  me.  Give 
me  back  those  five  guineas  and  that  crown." 

"  What  friends  ?  I  know  nothing  about  any  friends  or 
any  five  guineas.  What  mean  you?  I  know  nothing  about 
the  matter.  It  was  not  I  that  knocked  you  on  the  head,  lieu- 
tenant." 

"  Why — see — you  are  self -convicted  and  condemned.  Who 
spoke  of  knocking  on  the  head  ?  How  should  you  know  what 
was  done  unless  you  were  one  of  them  ?  Five  guineas,  Aaron, 
and  a  crown,  or  " — here  he  swore  a  great  oath — "  you  go  be- 
fore the  magistrate  to-morrow  with  your  friends  the  crimp's 
men,  and  answer  to  the  charge  of  highway  robbery,  and  thence 
to  Newgate.  And  so,  in  due  time,  to  Tyburn  in  a  comfortable 
cart.  Five  guineas,  Aaron." 

He  held  out  his  hand  inexorably,  while  Aaron  trembled. 
This  man  was  worse  than  any  ghost. 

"  Pay  the  money,  Aaron,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  and  thank  your 
good-fortune  that  you  have  so  far  got  oil  so  cheap.  So  far, 
Aaron.  Not  that  we  have  done  with  you.  Look  for  misfort- 
une, friend  Aaron."  He  said  this  so  solemnly  that  it  sounded 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  217 

like  a  prophecy.  "  Men  who  get  crimps  to  rob  for  them  and 
.kidnap  for  them  cannot  hope  to  prosper.  Therefore  expect 
misfortune.  You  have  many  irons  in  the  fire ;  you  can  be  at- 
tacked on  many  sides ;  you  build  boats ;  you  run  across  to  the 
French  coast ;  you  sell  your  smuggled  lace  and  brandy.  Mis- 
fortunes of  all  kinds  may  happen  to  such  as  you.  But  you 
must  pay  this  money,  or  else  you  will  swing ;  you  will  swing, 
friend  Aaron ;  and  when  you  have  paid  it  do  not  think  to  es- 
cape more  trouble.  I  say  not  that  it  will  be  rheumatism,  or 
sciatica,  or  lumbago,  all  of  which  lay  a  man  on  his  back  and 
twist  his  limbs  and  pinch  and  torture  him.  Perhaps —  But 
look  out  for  trouble." 

Aaron  lugged  out  his  purse  and  counted  five  guineas,  which 
he  handed  over  to  Jack  without  a  word. 

"  What  ?"  cried  Mr.  Brinjes,  his  eye  like  a  red-hot  coal,  "  the 
lieutenant  forgives  you,  and  you  think  you  are  going  to  escape 
scot-free  !  Not  so,  Aaron,  not  so  ;  there  are  many  punishments 
for  such  as  you.  I  know  not  yet  but  you  must  swing  for  this, 
in  spite  of  this  forgiveness.  Many  punishments  there  are.  I 
know  not,  yet,  what  yours  shall  be.  Come,  lieutenant,  leave 
him  to  dream  of  Newgate." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    PRIVATEERS. 

THE  time  allowed  to  a  sailor  in  which  to  make  love  is  short, 
being  no  more  than  the  interval  between  two  voyages.  (He 
generally  makes  up  for  brevity  by  the  display  of  an  ardor  un- 
known to  landsmen.)  And  now  the  hour  approached  when 
Jack  must  tear  himself  from  the  arms  of  his  mistress,  and  go 
forth  again  to  face  the  rude  blast,  the  angry  ocean,  and  the 
roaring  of  the  enemy's  guns.  Regardless  of  his  former  suffer- 
ings, he  desired  nothing  better  than  to  put  to  sea  once  more ; 
and  he  was  not  one  to  go  away  crying  because  there  would  be 
no  more  kisses  for  a  spell. 

Among  the  king's  ships  laid  up  in  ordinary  at  Deptford  dur- 
ing the  seven  years'  peace  was  a  certain  twenty-eight-gun  frig- 
ate called  the  Tartar.  I  know  not  what  had  been  her  record 
10 


218  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

up  to  this  period ;  but  that  matters  nothing,  because  it  will  be 
allowed  that  she  is  now  very  well  known  to  all  French  sailors, 
and  regarded  by  them  with  a  very  peculiar  terror.  She  was 
built  on  lines  somewhat  out  of  the  common,  being  sharper  in 
the  bows  and  narrower  in  the  beam  than  most  ships.  She  rode 
deep,  but  she  was  so  fast  a  sailer  that  nothing  could  escape  her 
when  she  crowded  on  all  her  canvas  and  gave  chase ;  a  beauti- 
ful ship  she  was,  to  my  eyes,  even  while  laid  up  in  ordinary, 
with  the  topmasts  taken  out  of  her,  and  her  upper  deck  cov- 
ered with  tarpaulin,  like  a  long  tent. 

"  But,"  said  Jack,  "  you  should  see  such  a  ship  sailing.  What 
do  you  landsmen  know  of  a  ship,  when  you  have  never  seen 
one  running  free  before  the  wind,  every  inch  of  canvas  set — 
studdin'-sails,  stay-sails,  flying  jib,  sky-scrapers,  and  all  ?  You 
draw  ships,  Luke  ;  but  you  have  never  even  seen  a  ship  at  sea." 

That  was  true  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  never  attempted  to 
draw  a  ship  sailing  on  the  ocean,  nor  have  I  ever  painted  waves 
or  the  open  sea. 

"  Wait  till  you  have  seen  the  Tartar  in  a  brisk  nor'wester, 
her  masts  bending,  she  riding  free,  answering  the  least  touch 
of  her  helm  like  a  live  thing — for  that  matter,  a  ship  at  sea  is  a 
live  thing,  as  every  sailor  knows,  and  has  her  tempers." 

Jack  became  enamoured,  so  to  speak,  of  this  vessel  from  the 
first  day  when  he  revisited  the  yard  and  saw  the  carpenters  and 
painters  at  work  upon  her,  and  desired  nothing  so  much  as  to 
be  commissioned  to  her ;  for  it  was  quite  certain  that  she  would 
be  manned  and  despatched  as  soon  as  they  could  fit  her  out. 
(At  this  time  they  were  working  extra  hours,  and  from  day- 
break to  sunset,  the  men  drawing  increased  pay,  and  all  as 
happy  as  if  the  war  were  going  to  last  forever. 

"  She  is,"  he  said,  "  a  swift  and  useful  vessel,  and  wants 
nothing  but  a  fighting  captain,  who  will  not  wait  for  the  ene- 
my, but  will  sail  in  search  of  him  and  make  him  fight.  I  would 
she  had  such  a  captain,  and  I  was  on  board  with  him !" 

He  presently  got  his  desire,  as  you  will  hear,  and  the  ship 
got  such  a  captain  as  he  wished  for  her. 

Meanwhile  the  days  passed  by,  and  still  his  appointment  was 
delayed,  so  that,  in  spite  of  his  amour,  he  began  to, fret  and  to 
grow  impatient.  The  great  man  on  whose  word  he  relied  had 
made  him  a  clear  and  direct  promise,  from  which  there  could 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  219 

.be,  one  would  think,  no  departing.  "Trust  me,  lieutenant," 
he  said ;  "  I  assure  you  that  you  shall  be  appointed  to  a  ship 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible."  Yet  appointments  were  made 
daily,  and  his  own  name  passed  by.  What  should  we  think,  I 
humbly  ask,  of  a  plain  merchant  in  the  City  who  should  thus 
disregard  a  straightforward  pledge  ?  Yet  what  would  ruin  the 
credit  of  a  merchant  is  not  to  be  blamed  in  a  great  man.  By 
the  advice  of  the  admiral  Jack  once  attended  the  levee  of  his 
noble  patron ;  but,  being  unaccustomed  to  courtiers'  ways,  ig- 
norant of  the  creeping  art,  and  unused  to  push  himself  to  the 
front,  he  got  no  chance  of  a  word,  or  any  recognition,  though 
he  says  his  patron  most  certainly  saw  him  standing  in  the 
crowd ;  and  so  came  away  in  disgust,  railing  at  those  who  rise 
by  cringing,  and  swearing  at  the  insolence  of  lackeys.  He  then 
made  a  personal  application  at  the  navy  office,  where  the  clerks 
treated  him  with  so  much  rudeness  and  contempt  that  it  was  a 
wonder  he  did  not  lose  his  temper  and  chastise  some  of  them. 
So  that  his  affairs  looked  in  evil  plight,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
might  be  kept  waiting  for  a  long  time,  indeed,  and  perhaps 
never  get  an  appointment  or  promotion.  For  though  the  peace 
estimates  had  reduced  the  navy  from  the  footing  of  fifty 
thousand  officers  and  men  to  that  of  ten  thousand — so  that 
when  the  war  broke  out  again  the  admiralty  were  wanting  offi- 
cers as  well  as  men — yet,  as  always  happens,  the  applicants  for 
berths  were  more  numerous  than  the  berths  to  be  given  away  ; 
and  the  favoritism  which  is  everywhere,  unhappily,  in  vogue  at 
the  admiralty,  hath  always  reigned  supreme. 

"  Of  one  thing,"  he  declared,  "  I  am  resolved.  If  I  do  not 
get  my  appointment  before  many  months  I  will  seek  the  com- 
mand of  a  privateer,  or  at  least  the  berth  of  lieutenant  on  board 
of  one.  There  is,  I  know,  no  discipline  aboard  a  privateer ; 
the  men  are  never  flogged,  and  are  generally  a  company  of  mu- 
tinous dogs,  only  kept  in  order  by  a  captain  who  can  knock 
them  down.  But  they  are  sturdy  rascals,  and  will  fight.  I 
hear  they  are  fitting  out  a  whole  squadron  of  privateers  at  Bris- 
tol ;  and  there  is  a  craft  building  at  Taylor's  yard,  in  Redriff — 
I  saw  her  yesterday — which  is  never  intended  to  carry  coals  be- 
tween Newcastle  and  'London,  or  sugar  between  Kingston  and 
Bristol.  She  means  letters  -  of  -  marque,  my  lad.  Perhaps  I 
could  get  the  command  of  her.  I  am  young,  but  I  am  a  king's 


220  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

officer ;  and  if  you  come  to  navigation — well,  one  must  not  boast. 
I  will  not  stay  at  home  doing  nothing — what !  when  there  is 
fighting?  No.  I  must  go  too,  and  take  my  luck.  If  they 
will  not  have  me  either  in  the  king's  service,  or  on  board  a  pri- 
vateer, or  in  the  Company's  navy,  why,  my  lad,  there  is  noth- 
ing left  but  to  volunteer  and  go  before  the  mast.  They  would 
not  refuse  me  there,  I  warrant,  and  many  a  poor  fellow  has 
done  as  much  already." 

It  is  true  that,  on  the  reduction  of  the  naval  force,  there  were 
many  unfortunate  young  men,  chiefly  among  the  midshipmen, 
who  saw  no  hope  of  employment,  being  without  interest,  and 
therefore  were  obliged  to  give  up  the  king's  service,  and  either 
to  get  berths  on  merchantmen  or  to  take  commissions  in  the 
Company's  service ;  or  even,  as  certainly  happened  to  some,  to 
volunteer  for  service  before  the  mast.  Some  became  smugglers, 
some  (but  these  were  chiefly  officers  from  the  disbanded  regi- 
ments) became  town  bullies  and  led-captains,  some  strolling 
actors,  and  some  highwaymen.  The  fate  of  these  poor  fellows 
was  much  in  the  mouths  of  the  young  officers  waiting,  like 
Jack,  for  a  ship,  who  met  and  talked  daily  at  the  Gun  Tav- 
ern. 

Fortunately  our  lieutenant  was  not  called  to  embark  on  board 
a  privateer,  for  he  found  a  friend  who  proved  able  and  willing 
to  assist  him.  This  was  the  resident  commissioner  of  the  yard, 
Captain  Petherick,  who  took  up  Jack's  case  for  him,  and  that 
so  effectually,  though  I  know  not  in  what  way,  that  he  pres- 
ently procured  for  him  the  appointment  promised  him,  and 
which  most  he  desired,  namely,  that  of  third  lieutenant  to  the 
frigate  Tartar,  to  which  Captain  Lockhart  was  now  appointed, 
And  he  was  a  fighting  captain  indeed,  if  ever  there  was  one. 

I  am  sure  that  on  the  day  which  brought  him  his  commis- 
sion there  was  no  happier  man  in  Deptford  than  Lieutenant 
Easterbrook.  He  had  now  been  in  the  service  for  nearly  ten 
years,  and  for  seven  of  them  had  been,  through  no  fault  of  his 
own,  debarred  from  every  opportunity  of  distinction.  Behold 
him,  therefore,  at  last,  with  his  foot  well  on  the  ladder,  albeit 
very  near  the  lowest  rung,  holding  his  majesty's  commission  as 
Lieutenant  to  H.  M.  frigate  Tartar.  On  that  day  it  happened 
that  the  bells  were  ringing  and  the  guns  firing,  to  commemorate 
I  know  not  what  event.  To  Jack  and  to  his  friends  it  seemed 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  22! 

as  if  the  bells  were  ringing  and  the  cannon  were  fired  in  his 
honor,  and  to  celebrate  his  appointment. 

"  As  for  her  orders,"  said  Jack,  "  I  care  little  whither  we  are 
sent,  because  it  is  certain  that  there  will  be  hot  work  to  do 
wherever  we  go.  The  French,  they  say,  are  strong  in  North 
American  waters,  and  they  are  reported  to  be  fitting  out  a  great 
fleet  at  Toulon ;  they  are  also  reported  to  be  collecting  troops 
at  Boulogne  and  at  Havre  for  embarkation,  no  doubt  for  the 
invasion  of  the  English  coast,  if  they  pluck  up  spirit  enough. 
"Well,  Bess,  we  shall  be  among  them,  never  fear." 

There  was,  as  many  will  remember,  a  great  scare  at  this  time 
that  the  French  were  preparing  to  invade  us,  and  there  were 
some  who  talked  mournfully  of  another  battle  of  Hastings,  and 
of  King  Louis  coming  over  to  be  crowned  at  Westminster  Ab- 
bey. The  smugglers  (who  in  times  of  peace  are  hanged,  but  in 
times  of  war  are  courted)  reported  great  preparations  along  the 
French  coast,  though  not,  so  far  as  could  be  learned,  compara- 
ble with  the  gathering  of  men  and  material  they  made  in  the 
year  1745,  when  they  were  preparing  to  back  up  the  Pretender. 
Nevertheless  the  danger  was  thought  to  be  so  pressing  that  ev- 
erything else  must  be  neglected  while  the  government  provided 
for  the  home  defence ;  and-  the  Tartar  (though  this  we  knew 
not  yet)  was  destined  to  join  the  Channel  Fleet.  Meantime,  as 
is  mere  matter  of  history,  the  French  very  leisurely  put  to  sea 
from  Toulon,  with  the  finest  fleet,  I  think,  that  the  world  had 
ever  seen,  and  had  plenty  of  time  to  take  Minorca.  Then  fol- 
lowed the  unlucky  Admiral  Byng's  famous  engagement  with 
the  Marquis  de  la  Gallissonniere,  which,  though  we  call  it  an 
inconclusive  action,  the  French  have  construed  into  a  most  glo- 
rious victory.  Never  can  one  forget  the  rage  of  the  people  and 
the  cry  for  revenge  that  rose  up  from  every  coffee-house,  from 
every  tavern,  from  the  Royal  Exchange,  filled  with  great  mer- 
chants, and  the  mug-house,  filled  with  porters,  and  wherever 
men  do  assemble  together.  A  bad  beginning  of  the  war  it 
was ;  and  all  that  year,  except  for  the  execution  of  the  admiral, 
we  had  nothing  to  cheer  us.  Even  this,  though  a  sop  for  the 
rage  of  the  nation,  was  a  poor  consolation,  because  no  sooner 
was  it  done  than  men  began  to  ask  themselves  whether,  after 
all,  the  admiral  had  not  done  his  duty.  There  were  floods  of 
epigrams  and  verses  written,  both  upon  Byng  and  De  la  Gallis- 


222  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

sonniere,  if  they  may  be  considered  a  consolation.  In  time  of 
defeat  and  disgrace  the  soul  is  soothed,  at  least,  when  something 
biting  has  been  said  upon  the  cause  or  author  of  the  shame. 
This  is  an  art  greatly  practised  by  the  French,  who  have  al- 
ways found  in  its  exercise  a  peculiar  satisfaction  for  their  many 
disgraces  both  by  sea  and  land,  and  for  the  loss  of  all  their  lib- 
erties. And  for  the  sake  of  a  good  epigram  they  are  said  to  go 
cheerfully  even  to  the  Bastile. 

At  this  time,  besides  the  preparations  for  invasion,  which 
were  perhaps  exaggerated,  the  Channel  swarmed  with  French 
privateers,  and  these  full  of  courage  and  spirit.  At  the  first 
outset,  and  until  we  had  taught  them  a  lesson  or  two,  they  were 
bold  enough  to  attack  anything,  without  considering  disparity 
of  numbers,  that  flew  the  English  flag.  Had  the  French  king's 
navy  been  handled  with  as  much  resolution  as  these  privateers, 
commanded  and  manned  often  by  simple  fishermen,  the  result 
of  the  war  might  have  been  very  different.  They  put  to  sea  in 
vessels  of  all  kinds ;  nothing  came  amiss  for  a  craft  of  war  with 
letters-of -marque  when  these  rogues  first  went  a-privateering ; 
nothing  in  their  earliest  flush  of  success  seemed  too  small  or  too 
badly  armed  for  a  venture  against  the  richly  laden,  slow-sailing 
English  merchantmen,  which,  taken  by  surprise,  offered  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  it  must  be  confessed,  but  a  cowardly  re- 
sistance. Again,  nothing  was  too  big  to  be  fully  manned  and 
equipped.  Every  craft  that  lay  in  the  ports,  from  Dunquerque 
to  Bordeaux,  became  a  privateer,  from  a  simple  fishing-smack, 
a  fast-sailing  schooner,  an  unarmed  sloop  carrying  two  or  four 
six-pound  carronades  and  thirty  or  forty  men,  to  a  tall  frigate 
of  thirty  guns,  well-gunned,  and  manned  by  three  hundred 
sturdy  devils,  emboldened  by  the  chance  of  plunder,  and  eager 
to  attack  everything,  from  an  East-Indiaman  to  a  potato-coaster. 
Very  good  service  was  done  during  the  course  of  this  war  by 
our  own  privateers,  of  whom  there  were  presently  a  great  many, 
though  it  must  be  owned  that  the  French  beat  us  both  for  the 
number  of  their  piratical  craft  and  their  success.  Certainly 
they  had  a  better  chance,  since  for  every  French  merchantman 
there  are  fifty  English.  We  were  always  capturing  their  priva- 
teers, but  their  number  never  seemed  to  lessen,  however  many 
lay  in  our  prisons.  Why,  in  one  year — I  think  it  was  the  year 
1761 — we  took  no  fewer  than  one  hundred  and  seventeen  pri- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  223 

vateers,  manned  by  five  thousand  sailors ;  yet  in  the  same  year, 
in  spite  of  their  conquests,  we  lost  over  eight  hundred  mer- 
chantmen, taken  from  us  by  these  hornets  swarming  under  our 
very  noses. 

"  Kiss  me,  Bess,"  said  Jack ;  "  we  will  sail  on  Sunday,  or 
Monday  at  latest.  Kiss  me  again,  my  girl.  Our  orders  have 
come.  "VVe  join  the  Channel  Fleet,  where  there  will  be  rubs 
for  some,  as  is  quite  certain." 

"  Among  the  privateers,  Jack  ?"  Bess  was  as  brave  a  girl  as 
any,  yet  she  shuddered,  thinking  of  this  dangerous  service,  in 
which  one  has  not  to  take  part  in  a  great  battle  once  in  the 
cruise,  and  so  home  again  to  brag  about  the  broadsides  and  the 
grape-shot,  but  to  fight  daily,  perhaps,  and  always  with  a  des- 
perate crew,  whose  only  chance  is  victory  or  escape.  "  Well " 
— for  his  eyes  clouded  at  the  first  appearance  of  fear  in  her 
face — "  if  thou  art  happy,  Jack,  then  will  I  try  to  be  happy 
too.  Alas !  why  cannot  women  go  into  battle  with  their  lov- 
ers ?  I  could  fire  a  pistol,  and  I  think  I  could  thrust  a  pike 
with  any  who  threatened  thee,  Jack.  But  we  must  still  sit  at 
home  and  wait." 

"  Now  you  talk  nonsense,  Bess.  Do  you  think  I  could  fight 
with  thee  at  my  side  ?  Why,  I  should  tremble  the  whole  time 
lest  a  splinter  should  tear  thy  tender  limbs.  Nay,  my  dear ; 
sit  at  home  and  wait,  for  there  is  nothing  else  to  do.  And 
sometimes  think  of  thy  lover.  Let  me  read  the  future  in  thine 
eyes."  She  turned  them  to  him  obediently,  and  as  if  the  fut- 
ure really  could  be  read  in  those  great  black  eyes.  "  I  see,  my 
dear,  a  sailor  coming  home  again,  safe  and  sound,  prize-money 
in  his  pocket,  promotion  awaiting  him.  His  girl  waits  for  him 
at  home.  He  rushes  into  her  arms  and  kisses  her — thus,  my 
dear,  and  thus,  a  thousand  times.  Then  he  buys  her  a  house 
as  fine  as  the  admiral's,  and  furnishes  it  for  her  with  his  prize- 
money  ;  and  there  is  a  garden  for  salads  and  for  fruit.  She 
shall  eat  off  china — no  more  pewter  then.  She  will  have  the 
finest  pew  in  church  and  the  most  loving  husband  at  home, 
and — what  ?  I  see  a  dozen  boys  and  girls ;  and  every  boy  in 
his  majesty's  service,  and  every  girl  married  to  a  sailor.  There 
shall  be  no  woman  in  the  world  handsomer  or  happier.  Give 
me  a  kiss  again,  my  dear." 


224  THE    WORLD    WENT   VERY    WELL    THEN. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THAT  evening  Bess  did  a  thing  which  is  forbidden  by  the 
Church ;  in  what  part  of  the  Prayer-book  I  do  not  know,  but 
I  have  always  understood  that  it  is  prohibited  as  a  grievous 
sin.  She  went  to  seek  the  advice  of  a  witch. 

The  sailors  and  their  wives  sometimes  importuned  Mr.  Brin- 
jes  to  bestow  upon  them,  or  to  sell  them  if  he  would,  some  kind 
of  charm  or  amulet,  either  to  maintain  constancy  in  separation 
(this  charm,  though  largely  in  request,  is,  if  all  reports  are  true, 
of  small  efficacy),  to  prevent  drowning,  against  incurring  the 
wrath  of  the  captain,  and  punishment  by  the  cat-o'-nine-tails, 
against  being  killed  or  wounded  in  action,  and  against  hanging 
— which  may  happen  to  any,  though  there  are  fewer  sailors 
hanged  than  landsmen.  Sometimes,  if  he  was  in  good  temper, 
or  if  the  applicant  was  a  young  woman  of  pleasing  appearance, 
Mr.  Brinjes  would  consent,  and  send  her  away  happy,  with 
something  in  a  bag  which  he  called  a  charm.  Whether  he 
himself  believed  in  his  charms  I  know  not,  but  there  are  still 
living  some  who  declare  that  they  have  escaped  hurt  or  drown- 
ing wholly  through  the  efficacy  of  the  apothecary's  charm.  Yet 
if  a  man  hath  this  power,  why  should  he  not  be  so  patriotic 
and  benevolent  as  to  extend  it  over  the  whole  of  his  majesty's 
navies,  so  that  not  a  sailor  among  them  all  should  ever  be  shot, 
drowned,  flogged,  or  cast  away  ?  It  is  like  the  arrogance  of 
the  Papist  priests,  who  profess  to  be  able  to  forgive  sins.  Why 
not,  then,  forgive  at  once,  both  great  and  small,  mortal  and  ve- 
nial, all  that  the  world,  living  or  dead,  hath  committed,  and  so 
make  mankind  whole  ?  Whatever  his  belief  concerning  his 
own  powers,  Mr.  Brinjes  without  doubt  entertained  a  high  re- 
spect for  those  of  Castilla's  black  nurse  Philadelphy — a  true 
witch  if  ever  there  was  one. 

"  I  know  not,"  my  father  once  said  on  this  subject,  "  whether 
the  practice  of  magic  hath  in  it  anything  real,  or  whether  the 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  225 

whole  is  imposture  and  superstitious  credulity.  The  Bible 
doth  not  teach  us  clearly  one  way  or  the  other.  Yet,  by  im- 
plication, we  may  understand  that  the  arts  of  sorcery  were  in 
old  times  practised  successfully,  otherwise  there  would  not  have 
been  promulgated  commandments  so  express  against  those  who 
work  hidden  arts,  practise  divination,  inquire  of  a  familiar  spirit, 
consult  the  dead,  or  fabricate  charms.  And  certainly  it  hath 
been  the  belief  in  all  ages,  and  among  every  race  of  whom  we 
have  knowledge,  that  power  may  be  magically  obtained  by  men 
whereby  they  may  compel  the  help  of  demons  and  spirits,  and 
in  some  way  foretell  the  future.  Nebuchadnezzar  divined  with 
arrows ;  the  false  prophets  deceived  the  people  with  amulets ; 
the  Bene  Kedem,  the  Chaldseans,  the  Philistines,  and  the  Cho- 
sen People,  in  their  backsliding,  worked  hidden  arts';  Phara- 
oh's magicians  turned  their  rods  into  serpents  ;  Rachel  carried 
away  his  Teraphim  from  her  father,  Laban.  What  forbids  us 
to  believe  that  sorcery  may  still  be  living  in  our  midst,  though 
lurking  in  dark  corners  for  fear  of  the  law  and  of  the  righteous 
wrath  of  pious  men  ?" 

The  old  negro  woman  knew,  of  a  certainty,  many  secrets, 
whether  they  were  those  of  the  black-art  or  no.  Mr.  Brinjes 
would  talk  to  her  in  her  own  Mandingo  language,  which  he  had 
acquired  while  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa.  She  it  was  who 
assisted  him  in  the  compounding  of  those  broths  which  used  to 
simmer  on  his  hob,  to  be  tasted  by  the  shuddering  assistant. 
By  these  and  other  secrets  of  which  he  was  always  in  search, 
and  forced  the  woman  to  reveal  by  terror  of  his  magic  stick 
with  the  skull,  he  hoped  to  cure  disease,  to  arrest  decay,  and 
to  prolong  life.  I  suppose  that  it  was  by  conversation  with 
him  that  Bess  was  led  to  consider  Philadelphy  as  much  wiser 
in  witchcraft  than  Mr.  Brinjes.  Therefore  she  resolved  to 
consult  her,  and  went  to  her  that  very  evening  with  all  the 
money  she  had  in  the  world,  namely,  a  crown-piece  and  a  groat. 

The  negroes  of  the  admiral's  household  occupied  quarters  of 
their  own,  built  for  them  without  the  house,  in  West  Indian 
fashion,  containing  a  common  kitchen  and  sleeping  -  rooms. 
Here  Bess  found  three  of  the  men,  one  of  them  being  on  guard, 
with  the  old  woman.  They  were  squatted  on  the  floor,  in  the 
kitchen,  round  a  dish  containing  their  supper — a  mess  of  cus- 
coosoo,  which  is  made  of  flour  roasted  by  some  art  in  small 
10* 


226  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

grains,  and  served  with  salt  fish,  onions,  red  pepper,  and  butter 
— a  strong-tasting  food,  but  not  displeasing  to  the  palate  nor 
unwholesome.  Every  race  has  its  own  dish.  The  Spaniards 
have  their  olla  podrida,  the  Hindoos  their  rice,  the  Chinese 
their  birds'-nest  soup  and  dried  sea-slugs,  and  the  Mandingos 
their  cuscoosoo.  There  was  no  other  light  in  the  room  than 
the  glow  of  a  great  coal  fire,  which  these  negroes  love  to  have 
burning  all  the  year  round,  and  in  the  winter  never  willingly 
leave.  As  for  candles,  why  should  negro  servants  have  luxu- 
ries which  poor  white  folk  cannot  afford  to  buy  ?  Candles  are 
for  those  who  wish  to  read,  play  music,  cards,  and  practise  the 
polite  accomplishments ;  not  for  those  who  sit  about  the  fire  for 
warmth. 

"  Hi !"  said  Philadelphy,  looking  up  curiously.  "  'Tis  Bess, 
the  penman's  girl." 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  you,  Philadelphy,"  said  Bess. 

The  old  woman  nodded,  and  the  men  rose,  took  up  the  dish 
of  cuscoosoo,  and  retired,  as  if  they  were  accustomed  to  these 
consultations,  and  knew  that  their  absence  was  expected.  A 
witch  must,  in  fact,  be  quite  alone  with  those  who  inquire  of 
her. 

When  they  were  gone  the  old  woman  crept  closer  to  the  fire, 
the  light  of  which  seemed  to  sink  into  her  skin,  and  there  to 
become  absorbed  (the  blackness  of  Philadelphy's  cheeks  not  be- 
ing shiny,  as  is  that  of  some  negresses,  but  dull),  while  her  eyes 
shone  by  the  firelight  like  two  balls  of  fire. 

"  What  is  it,  dearie  ?"  she  asked.  "  Is  thy  lover  incon- 
stant?" 

"  How  do  you  know  I  have  a  lover  ?" 

"  It  is  written  on  thy  face  and  in  thy  eyes,  dearie." 

"  I  have  come  for  a  charm,"  she  replied,  blushing  to  think 
that  she  carried  her  secret  written  on  her  face  so  that  all  could 
read. 

"  Hush  !  The  admiral  he  say,  «  No  charms  here,  Philadel- 
phy.' Whisper.  What  kind  of  charm  ?  Is  it  a  charm  to  make 
thy  sweetheart  love  thee  ?" 

"  He  loves  me  already."  Bess  hesitated  a  little.  Then  she 
added,  "  He  is  a  sailor.  I  want  a  charm  for  a  sailor." 

"  I  sell  very  fine  charm — proper  gri-gri  charm.  Eh  !  When 
Massa  Brinjes  wants  pow'ful  charm  for  gout  and  toothache  he 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  227 

sends  for  Philadelphy,  and  puts  his  skull-stick  on  the  table. 
Then  I  give  him  what  he  wants.  I  got  charm  for  'most  every- 
thing. Massa  Brinjes  very  good  Obeah  doctor ;  he  learn  in 
Mandingo  country  when  he  live  among  the  rovers.  Hi !  Fine 
times  the  rovers  had  before  they  were  all  hanged  up.  Hi ! 
But  he  don't  know  so  much  as  ole  Philadelphy.  When  he 
want  to  learn,  mus'  come  to  de  ole  woman.  Hi !"  As  she 
spoke,  her  eyes  rolling  about  so  that  the  whites,  in  the  fire- 
light, were  glowing  red,  she  held  out  her  hand  for  the  money, 
but  went  on  talking  and  asking  questions  without  waiting  for 
a  reply.  "  Mus'  come  to  de  ole  woman.  Everybody  comes  to 
de  ole  woman.  Some  day  I  die — what  you  do  then?  Hi! 
What  kind  of  charm  you  want  ?  I  sell  very  fine  charm.  Will 
you  buy  charm  for  true  love  ?  Once  your  man  get  that  charm 
upon  him  he  can't  even  look  at  another  woman.  That  charm 
make  all  other  women  ole  and  ugly.  Hi !  Tell  me,  dearie,  will 
you  have  that  charm  ?  I  sell  charm  again'  drowning.  No  man 
drown  with  my  charm  on  him.  Will  you  buy  that  charm  ?  I 
sell  charm  again'  shot  and  sword.  No  man  ever  killed  who 
carry  my  charm.  I  sell  charm  to  bring  him  home  again.  Hi ! 
You  like  your  sweetheart  come  home  again  ?  How  much  money 
you  got  for  de  ole  woman,  dearie  ?" 

"  I've  got  a  crown  and  a  groat.     Is  that  enough  ?" 

"  Give  it  to  me  !"  She  clutched  the  money  greedily.  "  S'pose 
you  rich  lady,  too  little.  S'pose  you  poor  girl,  'nuff  for  kind 
ole  Philadelphy." 

"  Will  the  money  buy  all  the  charms  ?" 

"  Buy  all  ?"  The  old  witch  laughed  scornfully.  "  She  think 
she  a  queen,  this  girl,  for  sure.  Buy  all  ?  Dearie,  if  your  crown 
and  your  groat  was  a  bag  of  gold  guineas  you  couldn't  buy 
but  only  one  charm." 

"  Then,  if  I  can  only  have  one,  which  shall  it  be  ?" 

"Take  the  love  charm,  dearie.  That  the  best  for  eb'ry 
girl." 

"  No,"  said  Bess,  proudly,  "  I  will  not  buy  a  love  charm.  If 
my  sweetheart  cannot  remain  constant  without  a  charm  to 
keep  him  I  want  no  more  of  him.  Well — then — he  might  be 
drowned.  But  he  has  passed  through  so  many  dangers  already 
that  I  do  not  think  he  will  ever  be  drowned.  He  might  be  killed 
in  action.  Let  him  come  home  safe  and  sound,  whether  he  loves 


228  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

me  or  not.  Yes,  I  will  have  the  charm  against  killing  and 
wounding." 

"  Most  girls,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  rather  see  their  sweet- 
hearts die  than  be  false." 

"  I  will  have  the  charm  against  shot  and  cutlass,"  said  Bess. 

"Very  well.  I  make  fine  gri-gri  —  pow'ful  charm.  Hi! 
charm  to  turn  aside  every  bullet.  You  wait." 

Then  the  old  woman  rose  slowly,  being,  in  spite  of  her  magic 
powers,  unable  to  charm  away  her  own  rheumatism,  and  fum- 
bled in  her  pocket,  a  vast  sack  hanging  beneath  her  dress,  which 
contained  as  many  things,  and  as  various,  as  a  housewife's  cup- 
board. From  the  rubbish  lying  in  its  vast  recesses  she  pro- 
duced a  small  leather  bag,  apparently  empty,  tied  with  a  long 
string,  which,  after  securing  the  bag  with  half  a  dozen  knots, 
was  long  enough  to  be  slipped  round  the  neck.  To  untie  these 
knots  and  to  open  the  bag  was  to  destroy  the  whole  charm. 
More  than  this,  it  was  to  invite  the  very  danger  which  was 
sought  to  be  averted.  Two  or  three  years  afterwards  I  was 
present  when  the  bag  was  opened.  It  contained  nothing  more 
than  a  small  piece  of  parchment,  inscribed  with  certain  charac- 
ters, which  I  believe  to  have  been  Arabic,  and  very  likely  a 
verse  of  the  false  prophet  Mohammed's  book,  the  Koran ;  there 
was  the  head  of  a  frog,  dried ;  the  leg-bone  of  some  animal, 
which  may  have  been  a  cat  or  a  rabbit ;  the  claw  of  some  wild 
creature ;  a  nutmeg  and  a  piece  of  clay.  This  was  a  famous 
collection  of  weapons  to  interpose  between  a  man's  body  and  a 
cannon-shot ! 

"  Take  the  bag  in  your  hand,"  said  the  old  woman.  "  Now 
go  down  on  your  knees  and  shut  your  eyes,  and  take  care  not 
to  open  them,  whatever  you  hear  or  feel,  while  you  say  the 
words  after  me : 

" '  Shot  and  bullet  pass  him  by ; 

Pike  and  cutlass  strike  in  vain ; 
Keep  him  safe,  though  all  may  die ; 
Bring  my  sweetheart  home  again.'" 

Bess  did  as  she  was  commanded,  holding  the  bag  in  her 
hand,  and  keeping  her  eyes  tightly  closed,  while  she  repeated 
these  words  on  her  knees.  She  declared  afterwards  that,  while 
she  said  the  words,  there  was  a  rushing  and  whirling  of  the  air 
about  her  ears  and  a  cold  breath  upon  her  face,  and,  which  was 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  229 

strange,  though  she  held  the  bag  tightly  by  the  neck,  she  felt 
that  things  were  being  dropped  inside  it. 

"Now,  honey,"  said  the  old  woman,  "gri-gri  done  made. 
You  open  eyes,  and  stand  up." 

So  Bess  obeyed,  looking  about  her  fearfully.  But  there  was 
nothing  to  see,  and  the  old  woman  was  now  crouching  beside 
the  fire  again.  But  the  bag,  which  had  been  empty  when  she 
took  it  in  her  hand,  was  now  filled  with  something. 

"  Give  your  lover,"  said  Philadelphy,  "  this  bag.  Hang  it 
round  his  neck.  And  say  the  words  again,  with  your  eyes  shut 
and  his  as  well.  Let  him  never  take  it  off  or  look  inside  it,  or 
tell  anybody  of  it.  Hi !  you  very  fine  girl,  for  sure ;  yet  some- 
times men  go  away  and  forget.  Hi !  Den  you  fly  roun'  like  a 
wildcat  in  a  trap.  Well,  dearie,  come  to  me  s'pose  he  does  go 
untrue.  I  make  beautiful  figure  for  girls  when  sweethearts 
prove  false  ;  put  him  'fo'  the  fire,  an'  stick  pins  into  him.  Den 
he  all  over  pain."  Bess  told  me  that  she  thought  of  Aaron, 
and  of  a  way  to  punish  him ;  but,  fortunately,  she  had  no 
more  money,  else  I  fear  that  Aaron  would  have  passed  a  bad 
winter. 

When  she  had  the  charm  the  old  woman  offered  to  tell  her 
for  nothing,  by  several  methods,  the  fortune  of  her  lover.  All 
her  methods  led  to  surprising  results,  as  you  shall  hear ;  and 
then  Bess  went  away,  carrying  with  her  the  precious  bag.  The 
next  thing  was  to  persuade  Jack  into  putting  it  on.  Now  ev- 
ery sailor  is  full  of  superstition ;  and  the  bravest  man  afloat  is 
not  above  carrying  a  charm  if  one  is  given  to  him.  But,  of 
course,  he  would  not  have  it  known. 

"  Jack,"  said  Bess,  "  don't  be  angry  with  me  for  what  I  have 
done." 

"What  have  you  done,  child?" 

"  I've  been — I've  been — Jack — to  a  witch.  Oh !  a  real  witch ! 
But  she  does  not  know  your  name  or  anything  about  you. 
And  I've  got  a  charm  for  you !  Here  it  is."  She  lugged  the 
precious  thing  out  of  her  bosom.  "  No,  Jack ;  don't  touch  it 
yet.  You  must  never  try  to  open  it,  or  to  find  out  the  secret 
of  what  is  inside,  or  else  the  charm  will  be  broken.  And,  Jack 
— promise  me — promise  me —  If  you  will  wear  this  round 
your  neck,  close  to  your  skin,  you  shall  never  be  hit  by  shot 
nor  shell." 


230  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Jack  laughed ;  but  he  took  the  little  black  bag  out  of  her 
hand  and  looked  at  it  doubtfully. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  as  for  such  a  trumpery  thing  as  this,  is  it 
worth  the  trouble  of  hanging  it  about  one's  neck  ?" 

"  I  might  have  had  a  charm  to  keep  you  safe  from  drowning, 
Jack ;  but  I  thought  that  you  have  had  so  many  dangers  already 
that  there  can  be  no  more  for  you.  And  I  might  have  had  one 
to  keep  you  true  to  me  ;  but,  oh  !  Jack,  what  good  would  it  do 
to  me  if  you  are  true  only  to  be  killed  ?  Besides,  if  you  cannot 
keep  true  to  me  without  a  charm  you  cannot  love  me  as  you  say 
you  do — yes,  Jack  I  know  you  do.  I  scorn  witchery  to  keep 
my  lover  true." 

"  A  lock  of  thy  hair,  Bess,  is  all  I  ask.  I  will  tie  that  round 
my  wrist.  'Twill  be  quite  enough  to  keep  me  true,  and  to  save 
me  from  drowning,  and  to  turn  aside  the  bullets." 

There  is,  indeed,  a  common  superstition  among  sailors  that 
a  lock  of  their  mistress's  hair  tied  round  the  wrist  will  carry 
them  safely  through  the  action. 

"  You  shall  have  a  lock  of  my  hair  as  well,  Jack.  Oh  !  you 
should  have  it  all  if  I  thought  it  would  keep  you  safe.  Only 
let  me  hang  this  round  your  neck.  There ;  now  I  take  off  the 
cravat  and  unbutton  the  shirt,  and  drop  it  in — so.  Shut  your 
eyes,  and  keep  them  shut,  while  I  say, 

"'Shot  and  bullet  pass  him  by; 

Pike  and  cutlass  strike  in  vain; 
Keep  him  safe,  though  all  may  die; 
Bring  my  lover  home  again.' " 

No  phenomena  attended  this  incantation. 

"  And  now,  Jack,"  Bess  said,  "  you  can  open  your  eyes  again. 
Cannon-shot  shall  not  harm  thee ;  bullet  shall  turn  aside  ;  sword 
and  pike  shall  not  be  able  to  do  my  dearie  hurt. 

"  'Tis  woman's  foolishness,  Bess.  Yet  have  I  heard  strange 
stories  about  these  old  negresses.  They  are  sold  to  the  devil, 
I  believe.  The  charm  can  do  no  harm,  if  it  do  no  good.  One 
would  not  go  into  action  with  an  advantage  over  one's  ship- 
mates. Yet  it  is  well  to  be  on  the  safe  side ;  no  man  knows 
what  power  these  old  women  may  have  acquired ;  and  every 
man  has  his  true-love  knot  for  a  charm.  Well,  Bess,  to  please 
thee,  my  dear,  I  will  wear  it." 

"  Then,  Jack,  I  can  let  thee  go  with  a  lighter  heart.     When 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  231 

the  wind  blows  I  shall  tremble,  but  not  when  I  hear  of  sea- 
fights  and  the  roaring  of  cannon." 

"  Some  men  carry  a  Testament,"  said  Jack.  "  Many  a  bullet 
has  been  stopped  by  a  Testament,  which  is  natural,  as  against 
the  devil  and  all  his  works,  of  which  the  Frenchman  and  the 
Spaniard  are  the  chief.  Some  of  them  carry  a  caul  to  escape 
drowning.  But  they  commonly  get  shot ;  though  why  a  caul 
should  attract  the  bullets,  or  whether  it  is  better  to  be  shot  or 
drowned,  I  know  not.  But  give  me  a  true-love  knot,  my  girl, 
to  keep  me  safe,  with  a  lock  of  thy  black  hair  to  tie  about  my 
arm,  and  a  kiss  of  thy  dear  lips  for  charm  to  keep  me  true. 
And  tell  no  one  about  this  charm  of  the  black  witch." 

She  let  down  her  long  and  beautiful  hair,  which  fell  below 
her  waist,  and  cut  off  a  lock  three  feet  long.  Then  Jack  bared 
his  arm  ;  why,  the  lovesick  lad  had  tattooed  it  all  over  with  the 
name  of  Bess.  There  was  Bess  between  an  anchor  and  a  crown, 
Bess  between  two  swords,  Bess  under  a  Union-Jack — well,  there 
could  be  no  denying,  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  his  vows  of  love 
for  Bess.  She  laughed  to  see  these  signs  of  passion,  and  tied 
her  lock  of  hair  round  and  round  his  arm,  securing  the  two 
ends  tightly  with  green  silk.  With  this,  which  is  every  wom- 
an's amulet,  and  the  old  witch's  charm,  surely  her  Jack  would 
be  safe. 

In  everything  that  followed  Jack  continued  to  wear  this 
charm  about  his  neck  both  by  day  and  night.  It  is,  we  know, 
most  certain  that  this  superstition  concerning  amulets  is  vain 
and  mischievous.  How  can  a  witch  by  any  devilry  preserve  a 
man  from  lead  and  steel?  How  can  a  leopard's  claw  and  a 
verse  from  a  so-called  sacred  book  stand  between  a  man  and 
the  death  that  is  ordered  for  him?  To  think  this  is  surely 
grievous  sin  and  folly.  Besides,  it  is  strictly  forbidden  to  have 
any  doings  with  witches ;  and  what  was  forbidden  to  the  peo- 
ple of  old  cannot  be  lawful  among  ourselves.  Yet  one  cannot 
but  remark,  as  a  singular  coincidence,  that  in  all  his  fighting 
Jack  had  never  a  wound  nor  a  scratch.  Perhaps,  however,  his 
escape  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  gri-gri. 

"  When  I  had  gotten  the  charm,"  the  girl  went  on,  "  I  asked 
Philadelphy  to  tell  my  sweetheart's  fortune.  So  she  said  she 
would  read  me  his  fortune  for  nothing,  and  she  drew  the  cards 
from  her  pocket,  and  spread  them  out  upon  the  table,  and  began 


232  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

to  arrange  them.  Then  she  pushed  all  together  and  began  again. 
Then  she  told  me  she  would  go  no  further  until  I  told  her  who 
was  my  sweetheart,  because  she  saw  an  officer  with  a  sword." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Jack. 

"  Oh  !  It  is  wonderful !  I  told  her  he  was  a  sailor ;  but  as 
for  his  name,  that  mattered  nothing.  So  she  began  again,  and 
told  me.  The  fortune  began  so  well  that  it  was  marvellous ; 
and  then  she  stopped  and  mumbled  something,  and  said  that 
there  was  a  coil  which  she  did  not  understand,  but  she  thought 
she  saw — she  said  she  thought  she  saw — the  devil,  Jack ;  and 
herself  as  well.  And  she  could  not  read  the  fortune,  because 
she  could  not  understand  any  more  of  it.  But  it  was  the  most 
surprising  fortune  in  the  world,  whether  good  or  bad.  Then 
she  asked  me  to  look  in  her  eyes,  and  she  would  read  my  own 
fortune  there.  Can  you  read  my  fortune  there,  Jack  ?" 

"  I  see  two  lieutenants  of  his  majesty's  navy  in  those  eyes, 
Bess.  Is  that  fortune  enough  for  you  ?  One  in  each  eye.  Is 
not  that  enough  for  a  girl  ?" 

"  They  are  but  one,  my  dear,"  she  said. 

"  And  what  was  the  fortune  that  she  told  you,  Bess  ?" 

"  She  said,  '  Come  what  may  come,  thou  shalt  marry  thy 
lover.'  So  I  am  satisfied.  Come  what  may  come.  What  care 
I  what  may  come  ? — oh  !  what  can  come  that  will  harm  me  ? — 
so  that  I  keep  the  man  I  love  ?  What  more  can  I  desire  ? 
What  more  can  I  ask?  I  am  so  poor  that  I  can  lose  nothing. 
Fortune  cannot  hurt  me.  And,  come  what  may  come,  I  shall 
keep  the  man  I  love.  You  will  come  back  to  me,  Jack,  and  I 
shall  have — oh !  I  shall  have — my  heart's  desire." 

It  was  on  Saturday  morning  that  the  ship  dropped  down  the 
river  with  wind  and  tide,  her  company  and  armament  complete, 
new  rigged,  new  painted,  fresh  and  sweet  as  a  lady  just  from 
her  dressing-room,  while  the  cannon  roared  the  parting  salute. 
I  remember  that  it  was  a  misty  morning  in  December,  a  light 
southwest  breeze,  and  the  sun  like  a  great  red  copper  pan  or 
round  shield  in  the  sky.  And  as  the  ship  slowly  slipped  down 
Greenwich  Reach  the  shrouds  and  the  sails  shone  like  gold, 
and  were  magnified  by  the  mist. 

The  admiral  stood  on  the  quay  with  Castilla,  and  with  them 
Mr.  Brinjes. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  233 

"  Go  thy  way,"  said  the  old  sailor.  "  Go  thy  way  and  do 
thy  duty.  Castilla,  my  dear,  there  is  only  one  good  thing  for  a 
man — 'tis  to  sail  away  from  the  land  of  thieves  and  land-sharks, 
out  into  blue  water  to  fight  the  French." 

"  And  what  is  good  for  a  woman,  sir  ?" 

"  Why,  my  child,  to  marry  the  man  who  goes  to  sea.  Fare- 
well, Jack.  Maybe  we  shall  never  see  thee  more.  Let  us  go 
home,  Castilla." 

I  went  on  board  an  hour  before  they  sailed.  Jack  could  do 
no  more  than  whisper  a  word  as  he  held  me  by  the  hand.  Oh, 
heavens !  my  heart  leaps  up  within  me,  even  now,  as  I  remem- 
ber those  eyes  of  his  so  full  of  love  and  tenderness.  "  Take 
care  of  her,  Luke  " — this  was  what  he  said — "  take  care  of  her 
until  I  come  home  to  marry  her.  My  pretty  Bess  !  'Tis  a  lov- 
ing heart,  Luke.  She  is  thy  charge,  lad.  Good-bye,  dear  lad, 
good-bye !"  % 

I  knew  that  she  must  be  sitting  in  the  old  summer-house, 
waiting  to  see  the  ship  go  by,  and  there,  indeed,  I  found  her. 
Jack  parted  with  her  early  in  the  morning.  I  knew  not  what 
passed  between  them ;  but  it  was  surely  very  moving,  because 
no  pair  loved  each  other  more  deeply  than  these  two. 

"  He  is  gone,"  she  said.  "  It  is  all  over.  But  he  loves  me. 
Oh  !  I  am  sure  he  loves  me.  Yet  something  will  happen.  Phil- 
adelphy  saw  the  devil  and  herself.  Between  the  two  something 
is  sure  to  happen.  Oh !  we  shall  never  be  so  happy  again  to- 
gether— never  again." 

"  Why,"  I  told  her,  "  people  always  think  that  the  future  can 
never  be  like  the  past.  There  are  plenty  of  happy  days  before 
you,  Bess.  Jack  will  come  home  again  some  time,  maybe  a 
first  lieutenant — who  knows  ? — or  a  captain  in  command.  Then 
we  shall  have  peace,  I  suppose,  once  more,  and  Jack  will  remain 
ashore,  and  you  will  be  his  wife." 

"  Yes.  What  did  Philadelphy  say  ?  Come  what  may  come, 
thon  shalt  marry  thy  lover.  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid.  I  saw  him 
on  the  quarter-deck  as  the  ship  sailed  past.  Oh !  he  is  the 
bravest  and  the  handsomest  man  in  all  the  king's  service ;  and 
who  am  I  that  he  should  love  me  ?  Luke,  you  know  how  ladies 
talk,  and  what  they  say.  Teach  me  that  way.  Oh !  Luke, 
teach  me,  so  that  he  shall  never  be  ashamed  of  his  sweetheart. 


234  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

My  Jack !  my  sailor  Jack !  Steel  nor  lead  shall  not  harm  him ; 
but  the  ship  may  wreck  or  sink.  Oh  !  my  heart !  my  heart ! 
When  shall  I  see  thy  dear  face  again  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


WHEN  Jack  was  gone  I  suppose  that  Deptford  remained  just 
as  full  of  noise  and  business  as  before.  As  much  hammering 
went  on  in  the  yard ;  there  was  as  much  piping  and  shouting 
on  the  river ;  there  was  as  much  drinking  and  brawling  in  the 
town.  But  to  some  of  us  the  place  seemed  to  have  become 
suddenly  and  strangely  quiet.  Our  lieutenant  had  been  ashore 
three  or  four  months  in  all,  yet  he  filled  the  town  with  his 
presence — a  thing  which  only  strong  and  masterful  men  can  do. 
Most  of  us,  when  we  go,  are  not  missed  at  all,  and  our  places 
are  quickly  filled  up,  whether  we  sail  away  to  sea  upon  a  cruise 
or  are  carried  to  the  grave. 

Whoever  is  absent,  the  events  of  the  days  continue  to  follow 
each  other  and  to  occupy  the  minds  of  those  who  wait  at  home. 
'Twas  a  stirring  time,  and  though  others,  and  worse,  have  fol- 
lowed, and  we  are  even  now  in  a  great  war,  the  issue  of  which 
no  man  can  predict,  it  seems  to  me  that  those  years  were  more 
full  of  interest  than  any  which  have  followed.  Why,  one  re- 
members even  the  things  that  are  most  readily  forgotten ; 
how,  for  instance,  the  Speedwell  yacht  moved  against  wind  and 
tide,  and  beat  four  miles  an  hour ;  how  four  tradesmen  of  the 
City  were  in  a  pleasure-boat  off  Margate  when  they  were  picked 
up  by  a  French  privateer  and  ransomed  for  three  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds ;  how  the  wounded  soldiers  were  brought  home 
and  carried  through  the  town  in  wagons ;  how  the  recruits 
quartered  in  the  Savoy  mutinied,  and  were  quickly  shot  down ; 
how  Mary  Walker,  of  Rotherhithe,  was  barbarously  murdered, 
and  her  niece  hanged  for  the  crime  (though  there  were  many 
who  wept  for  the  poor  girl,  and  believed  her  protestations  of 
innocence,  which  she  continued,  with  cries  and  tears,  to  the 
very  end) ;  how  seventy  men  of  the  Namur  walked  all  the  way 
from  Portsmouth  to  the  admiralty  to  complain  of  their  rations, 


THE    WORLD   WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  235 

and  fifteen  were  hanged  for  punishment;  and  how — a  thing 
which  pleased  me  much — there  was  a  great  sale  of  pictures,  at 
which  a  Claude  Lorraine  fetched  as  much  as  a  hundred  guineas, 
a  Correggio  £40,  a  Rubens  £79,  and  a  Raphael  over  £700. 
But  these  are  now  old  stories,  though  then  they  made  talk  for 
the  world. 

Bess,  keeping  mostly  at  home,  applied  herself  diligently  to 
acquire  the  arts  of  reading  and  writing,  so  that  her  lover  might 
never  be  accused  of  marrying  an  illiterate  woman.  These  arts, 
mastered  even  in  childhood  with  great  difficulty  and  painful 
labor,  are  far  more  difficult  to  acquire  after  one  has  arrived  at 
maturity.  By  great  patience,  however,  Bess  so  far  succeeded 
that,  after  two  years'  application,  she  was  able  to  make  her 
way  slowly  through  a  page  of  large  and  clear  print,  leaving  out 
the  hard  words.  This  achievement  satisfied  her,  because  she 
was  not  in  the  least  degree  curious  concerning  the  contents  of 
books,  and  did  not  desire  information  on  any  subject  whatever. 
She  also  learned  to  write  her  own  name,  her  father  teaching 
her ;  'twas,  I  remember,  in  a  fine  flowing  hand,  with  flourishes 
after  the  penman's  style  ;  but  she  could  write  nothing  else,  nor 
could  she  ever  read  the  written  character.  To  one  who  con- 
siders the  ignorance  of  such  a  girl  as  Bess,  who  neither  reads 
nor  writes,  doth  not  hear  the  talk  of  exchanges  and  coffee- 
rooms,  and  has  never  been  to  school,  her  mind  must  seem  a 
state  of  darkness  indeed.  The  whole  of  the  world's  history, 
except  that  portion  of  it  which  is  connected  with  our  Redeem- 
er, is  entirely  unknown  to  her.  Geography,  present  politics, 
the  exact  sciences,  the  fine  arts,  poetry,  and  letters — all  these 
things  are  words,  and  nothing  more,  to  her.  Such  was  this 
girl's  ignorance,  and  such  was  her  apathy  as  regards  knowl- 
edge, that  she  desired  to  learn  nothing  except  what  would 
please  her  sweetheart.  With  this  end  in  view  she  used  to  lay 
out  the  charts  on  the  apothecary's  table,  and  would  make  Mr. 
Brinjes  tell  her  about  all  the  ports  at  which  Jack  had  touched, 
and  the  seas  over  which  he  had  sailed.  "  I  love  Jack,"  was  all 
the  burden  of  her  song.  He  was  never  out  of  her  mind ;  the 
world  might  go  to  wrack,  and  she  would  care  nothing  if  only 
her  lover  remained  in  safety  and  was  brought  back  to  her  arms. 

She  begged  me  to  tell  her  what  other  things,  if  any,  a  gentle- 
woman generally  learns,  so  that  she  might  teach  herself  these 


236  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

things  as  well.  Willingly  would  I  have  done  this,  but  on  in- 
quiry I  could  not  discover  anything — I  mean  any  serious  study 
— which  was  necessary  or  possible  for  her  to  undertake.  I 
knew  but  one  gentlewoman  with  whom  to  compare  Bess.  This 
was  Castilla.  Certainly  Castilla  had  commenced  the  study  of 
the  French  language  ;  but  I  know  not  how  far  she  advanced,  and 
I  have  not  learned  that  she  was  ever  able  to  read  a  book  in  that 
tongue.  Then,  in  the  matter  of  arts  and  sciences,  Castilla  was 
certainly  as  ignorant  as  Bess.  And  when  I  came  to  consider 
the  subject,  I  could  not  discover  that  she  was  any  fonder  than 
Bess  of  reading,  or  more  desirous  to  extend  her  knowledge  by 
means  of  books.  There  are,  it  is  true,  certain  accomplishments 
in  which  a  young  gentlewoman  is  instructed.  Castilla  had 
learned  to  dance,  and  in  the  assembly  there  were  none  who  per- 
formed a  minuet  with  more  grace,  though  some,  perhaps,  with 
more  stateliness,  because  she  was  short  of  stature.  In  a  coun- 
try-dance she  had  no  equal.  But  Bess,  for  her  part,  who  had 
never  been  taught  by  any  dancing-master,  could  dance  a  jig,  a 
hay,  or  a  hornpipe,  rolling  like  a  sailor,  snapping  her  fingers,  and 
singing  the  while,  so  as  to  do  your  eyes  good  only  to  see  the 
unstudied  grace  and  spirit  of  her  movements.  Then  Castilla 
had  been  taught  the  harpsichord,  and  could  play  at  least  three, 
if  not  four,  tunes.  But  Bess  had  never  even  seen  a  harpsi- 
chord, and  as  she  did  not  possess  one  she  could  not  be  taught 
to  play  upon  it.  Then  there  is  singing.  Nothing  is  more 
pleasant  to  the  ear  than  the  singing  of  a  beautiful  woman. 
Castilla  had  a  low  voice,  but  it  was  sweet  and  musical ;  she 
had  been  taught  to  sing  by  the  same  master  who  had  taught 
her  the  harpsichord,  and  she  could  sing  several  songs.  To 
please  my  father  she  used  to  sing  "  Drink  to  me  only  with 
thine  eyes  ;"  to  please  the  admiral  she  sang  "  To  all  you  ladies 
now  on  land ;"  to  please  me  she  sang  "  Sweet,  if  you  love  me, 
let  me  go  ;"  and  all  so  charmingly,  never  dropping  a  note,  mak- 
ing no  mistakes  in  word  or  tune,  and  with  such  grace  of  voice 
and  pretty  gentle  ways  that  it  ravished  those  who  heard  her. 
But  as  for  Bess,  she  had  a  full  rich  voice,  and  she  sang  out 
loud,  so  that  she  might  have  been  heard  half-way  across  the 
river.  She  knew  fifty  songs,  and  was  always  learning  new  ones. 
She  would  listen  to  the  ballad-singer  in  the  street,  and  to  the 
sailors  bawling  in  the  taverns,  and  would  then  go  away  and 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  237 

practise  the  song  by  herself  till  she  was  perfect.  She  sang 
them  all  to  please  Jack ;  but  after  he  was  gone  she  sang 
no  more — sitting  mum,  like  a  moulting  canary-bird.  It  was 
pretty  to  listen  while  she  sang,  sitting  with  one  hand  upon 
Jack's  shoulder,  and  the  other  clasped  in  his  lovesick  fingers : 

"  The  landlord  he  looks  very  big, 
With  his  high  cocked  hat  and  his  powdered  wig; 
Methinks  he  looks  both  fair  and  fat, 
But  he  may  thank  you  and  me  for  that. 
For  oh  !  good  ale,  thou  art  my  darling, 
And  my  joy  both  night  and  morning." 

Or,  sometimes,  "  Why,  soldiers,  why  should  we  be  melancholy, 
boys  ?"  or,  "  Come  all  ye  sailors  bold,  lend  me  an  ear."  Anoth- 
er was  a  plaintive  ditty,  the  choice  of  which  we  may  believe  to 
have  been  inspired  in  some  prophetic  mood : 

"Early  one  morning,  just  as  the  sun  was  rising, 
I  heard  a  maid  sing  in  the  valley  below : 

*  Oh  !  don't  deceive  me.  Oh !  never  leave  me. 
How  could  you  use  a  poor  maiden  so  ?'  " 

As  regards  housewifery,  Castilla  could  make  conserves,  cakes, 
puddings,  and  fruit-pies,  and  she  could  distil  strong  waters  for 
the  stillroom.  Bess,  for  her  part,  could  make  bread,  pies  of  all 
kinds,  including  sea-pie,  onion-pie,  salmagundy,  and  lobscouse ; 
she  could  cook  a  savory  dish  of  liver  and  bacon,  of  beefsteak 
and  onions,  of  ducks  stuffed ;  she  could  make  tansy  puddings, 
and  many  other  pleasant  things  for  dinner.  She  could  also 
brew  beer,  and  had  many  secrets  in  flavoring  it  with  hops,  ivy- 
berries,  yew-berries,  and  other  things.  As  for  needle-work, 
Castilla  could,  it  is  true,  embroider  flowered  aprons,  and  do 
Turkey  work,  and  tent  stitch,  work  handkerchiefs  in  catgut, 
and  such  pretty  things.  But  Bess  could  knit  stockings  for 
her  father  or  herself;  she  made  her  own  frocks  and  trimmed 
her  own  straw  hats.  As  to  playing  cards,  Castilla  knew  a  great 
many  games,  such  as  Quadrille,  Whist,  Ombre,  Pope  Joan,  and 
Speculation ;  but  Bess,  for  her  part,  could  play  All-fours,  Put, 
Snip-snap-snorum,  Laugh-and-lie-down,  and  Cribbage.  Then, 
but  this  signified  little,  Castilla  collected  shells,  which  were 
brought  to  the  house  by  sailors,  and  made  grottoes ;  she  could 
also  cut  out  figures,  and  even  landscapes,  in  black  paper;  she 
could  make  screens  by  sticking  pictures  on  paper;  and  she 


238  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

knew  several  pretty  girls'  games,  such  as  Draw-gloves,  and 
Questions,  and  Command.  Bess  knew  none  of  these  little  ac- 
complishments ;  and  as  for  games,  she  loved  best  the  boys' 
sports,  such  as  Tag  and  Thrush-a-thrush,  which  she  used  to 
play  with  Jack  and  me  when  we  were  young.  The  chief  dif- 
ference, so  far  as  I  could  understand,  in  the  education  of  the 
two  girls  was  that  one  could  carry  a  fan,  manage  a  hoop,  and 
behave  after  the  manner  of  gentlewomen,  which  the  other  could 
not  do.  And  I  could  not  recommend  Bess  either  to  put  on  a 
hoop,  or  to  buy  a  fan,  or  to  powder  and  paint,  or  to  lay  on 
patches,  by  all  of  which  things  she  would  have  made  herself 
ridiculous. 

There  are  some  things,  however,  which  cannot  be  learned. 
Such  are  sweetness  of  disposition,  that  finer  kind  of  modesty 
which  belongs  to  gentle  breeding,  grace  of  carriage,  respect  to 
elders,  and  the  equal  distribution  of  favors  and  smiles,  so  as  not 
to  show  too  openly  the  secret  preferences  of  the  heart.  In  all 
these  things  Bess  was  naturally  inferior  to  Castilla,  and  these, 
unfortunately,  I  could  not  teach  her,  nor  could  Mr.  Brinjes. 

I  could  therefore  advise  her  nothing  but  to  study  at  every 
opportunity,  and  especially  in  church,  the  carriage  and  de- 
meanor of  the  quality  and  the  fashion  of  their  dress,  which  I 
recommended  her  to  adopt  at  such  a  distance  as  her  means  and 
station  would  allow. 

You  may  be  sure  that  there  were  many  at  Deptford  who 
waited  anxiously  for  news  of  the  Tartar — most  of  the  crew 
belonging  to  the  town,  and  none  of  them  being  pressed  men, 
but  all  volunteers,  who  took  the  king's  bounty.  But  for  three 
or  four  months  we  heard  nothing.  Then  news  came  to  the 
dock-yard,  and  was  taken  to  the  club  in  the  evening  by  the 
resident  commissioner. 

"  Admiral,"  he  said,  "  and  gentlemen  all,  I  bring  you  good 
news.  'Tis  of  the  Tartar." 

"  Good  news  ?"  cried  the  admiral.  "  Then  the  boy  is  well. 
Bring  more  punch,  ye  black  devil !" 

"  The  Tartar  has  put  into  Spithead  with  a  thumping  prize. 
Twelve  men  killed,  and  the  master  and  mate.  Twenty  wounded ; 
but  only  the  second  lieutenant  among  the  officers,  and  he 
slightly." 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         239 

"  This  is  brave  hearing,  gentlemen,"  said  the  admiral. 

"  The  prize  is  a  privateer  from  Rochelle,  twenty  guns  and 
one  hundred  and  seventy  men.  She  made,  it  is  reported,  a  gal- 
lant resistance.  No  doubt  we  shall  have  further  particulars  by 
private  despatches." 

In  two  days  there  came  by  the  post  two  letters,  both  from 
Jack.  One  of  these  was  for  the  admiral,  which  I  do  not  tran- 
scribe, although  I  was  privileged  to  read  it ;  and  another  for 
me.  I  knew  very  well  that  the  letter  was  not  for  me,  but  for 
another.  Wherefore  I  made  an  excuse  for  not  opening  it  be- 
fore the  company,  and  carried  it  off  to  Mr.  Brinjes,  where  I 
found  Bess  sitting,  as  was  her  wont  in  the  afternoon. 

"  I  have  heard,"  she  said,  "  that  there  has  been  fighting  on 
board  the  Tartar.  The  people  in  the  town  are  talking  about 
it." 

"  Jack  is  safe,  and  the  Tartar  has  taken  a  prize,  Bess ;  and 
here  is  a  letter." 

So  I  tore  it  open  in  her  presence.  It  was  exactly  as  I 
thought.  That  is  to  say,  there  were  a  few  words  directing 
me  to  give  the  enclosed  packet  to  his  dear  girl,  the  mistress  of 
his  heart ;  and  she  very  joyfully  received  it,  snatching  it  out 
of  my  hands  with  a  strange  jealousy,  as  if  she  grudged  that 
anybody  should  have  in  his  hands,  even  for  a  minute,  what  be- 
longed to  her  and  was  a  gift  from  her  lover.  It  was  the  same 
with  everything,  down  to  the  smallest  ribbon  which  Jack  gave 
her — she  could  not  bear  that  another  should  so  much  as  touch 
it,  even  a  man.  As  for  a  woman  being  allowed  to  look  at  her 
lover's  gifts — well,  it  was  a  jealous  creature,  but  she  loved  him. 

First,  like  a  mad  thing,  she  fell  to  kissing  the  letter.  "  Oh  !" 
she  cried,  holding  it  with  both  hands,  but  kindly  permitting 
me  to  scent  its  fragrance,  which  was,  to  say  the  truth,  like  a 
mixture  of  bilge-water,  lamp-oil,  cheese,  rum,  and  gunpowder — 
"  oh,  it  actually  smells  of  the  ship !"  In  fact,  the  letter,  no 
doubt  from  having  been  written  on  paper  long  kept  below  with 
the  purser's  stores,  smelt  of  that  part  of  the  ship  where  the 
stores  are  kept.  "  It  is  just  like  violets,"  she  added ;  but  the 
smell  of  Jack's  ship  was  better  to  her  than  that  of  any  violets. 
And  so  she  kissed  it  again. 

"  Shall  we  read  it  ?"  I  said.  "  The  letter,  I  suppose,  was 
meant  to  be  read  as  well  as  to  be  kissed." 


240  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

She  gave  it  to  me  reluctantly.  I  do  not  think  she  wanted  to 
know  the  contents.  Enough  that  Jack  had  written  her  a  letter. 
What  greater  proof  of  love  could  be  given  to  any  girl  ? 

-"Do  you  think  he  wanted  it  to  be  read?"  she  asked. 
"  Wouldn't  he  be  contented  if  he  knew  that  I  had  it  safe  and 
was  keeping  it  next  to  my  heart,  against  his  coming  home  ?" 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Bess,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes ;  "  let  Luke  read  it. 
Why,  the  letter  will  tell  us  all  about  the  lighting.  Why  else 
should  he  take  the  trouble  to  write  a  letter  at  all.  Do  you 
think  a  man  likes  writing  letters  ?  As  for  me,  I  never  received 
a  letter  in  my  life,  and  I  never  wrote  one." 

She  gave  up  the  letter  with  a  sigh.  If  she  had  been  able  to 
read  it  herself,  no  one  else  would  have  seen  it. 

"Jack  having  taken  so  much  trouble,"  Mr.  Brinjes  con- 
tinued, "  'twould  be  disrespectful  not  to  read  it.  What  he 
writes  to  you,  my  girl,  he  writes  for  me  as  well." 

"  *  Mistress  of  my  heart,'  "  1  began,  reading  the  letter.  "  Is 
that  meant  for  you,  Mr.  Brinjes  ?" 

"  Except  a  word  or  two  just  to  show  that  he  hasn't  f orgot- 
ton  you,  Bess,  of  course.  Why,  as  for  that,  such  words  mean 
nothing  except  that  the  boy  is  in  love.  I've  known  a  man  so 
bewitched  with  love  as  to  call  a  half-naked  black  wench  his 
goddess  and  his  nymph.  Yet  it  seemed  to  please  the  girl.  Go 
on,  Luke." 

"  *  Mistress  of  my  heart '  " — while  I  read,  Bess  sat  in  the 
window-seat,  her  hands  clasped,  her  eyes  soft  and  melting,  her 
breath  caught  short  and  quick,  and  continually  interrupting 
with  ejaculations — such  as,  "  Oh,  Jack !"  and  "  Oh,  my  brave 
boy !" — wrung  from  her  heart  by  the  joy  of  loving  and  being 
loved.  But  these  I  omit. 

"  Mistress  of  my  heart  and  queen  of  my  soul !  My  dearest  Bess, — Since 
I  sailed  from  Deptford  I  have  thought  of  you  every  day  and  every  night. 
If  I  were  by  your  side  I  should  give  you  a  thousand  hugs  and  kisses.  There 
never  was  a  more  lovely  maid  than  my  Bess.  My  dear,  we  have  had  our 
first  tussle,  and  warm  work  it  was ;  but  the  enemy  is  now  snug  and  com- 
fortable under  hatches,  where  he  will  remain  until  we  come  to  anchor  in 
the  Solent,  and  carry  him  up  Porchester  Creek  to  rest  awhile.  I  think  he 
has  got  a  headache,  Bess,  after  the  noise  of  the  guns,  and  perhaps  the 
small  shot  have  given  him  a  toothache,  and  the  cannon-balls  have  very 
likely  made  his  legs  rheumatic.  We  had  a  fine  time  the  last  bout  ashore, 
hadn't  we,  Bess  ?  I  shaVt  forget  the  room  behind  the  shop,  nor  the 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          241 

summer-house  where  Luke  caught  us  kissing,  and  you  blushed  crimson. 
Well,  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  ashore  again  some  time,  though  not,  I  hope,  like 
our  poor  carpenter's  mate,  who  has  had  both  legs  amputated,  and  will  now 
forever  go  on  stumps.  If  your  Jack  came  home  on  stumps,  would  you  send 
him  about  his  business,  Bess  ?  We  fell  in  with  the  enemy — " 

"  Here  the  letter  begins,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  What  went 
before  was  like  the  froth  on  a  pot  of  stingo." 

"  We  fell  in  with  the  enemy  on  the  morning  of  the  18th,  this  being  Feb- 
ruary the  20th.  We  should  have  missed  her  altogether,  but,  by  the  bless- 
ing of  Providence,  the  fog  cleared  away  and  showed  us  the  ship,  half  a 
mile  or  thereabouts  off  the  weather  bow.  'Twas  in  full  Channel.  She 
hoisted  the  French  flag,  and  we  returned  the  compliment — such  was  our 
politeness — with  a  cannot-shot,  pitched  a  yard  or  two  wide  of  her.  The 
enemy  scorned  to  show  her  heels  (wherefore  I  honor  her,  and  give  her  what 
is  due) ;  perhaps  because  she  carried  heavier  weight  of  metal  and  a  larger 
complement  than  the  Tartar.  As  for  the  engagement  which  followed,  it 
lasted  for  an  hour  or  thereabouts ;  and  then,  on  our  coming  to  close  quar- 
ters and  preparing  to  board,  Monsieur  hauled  down  his  colors,  finding  he 
had  no  stomach  for  pikes  and  cutlasses.  Which  was  his  stratagem  ;  and 
mark  the  treachery  of  this  bloody  villain.  For  while  we  prepared  leisurely 
and  unsuspecting  to  take  possession,  he  bore  up  suddenly  and  boarded  us. 
Fortunately,  he  had  to  deal  with  a  well-disciplined  crew ;  but  the  fighting 
was  hand  to  hand  for  a  while  before  they  gave  up  the  job,  and  tried  to 
back  again  to  their  own  deck.  There  were  fifty  of  them  in  the  boarding 
party,  and  not  one  got  back,  nor  never  a  prisoner  made,  such  was  the  rage 
of  our  men.  So  we  gave  them  no  more  chance  for  treachery,  but  boarded 
in  our  turn  ;  and  hand  to  hand  it  was  again,  till  all  that  was  left  of  them 
were  driven  under  hatches,  where  they  now  remain.  There  were  a  hundred 
and  seventy  of  them  when  the  action  began,  and  we've  thrown  eighty  bodies 
overboard.  Consequently,  there  are  ninety  prisoners.  Our  master,  who  is 
as  tough  a  sea-dog  as  lives,  calculates  that  at  this  rate— namely,  and  that 
is  to  say,  every  ship  in  the  king's  service  taking  one  French  ship  a  week, 
killing  or  disabling  half  the  crew,  and  taking  prisoner  the  other  half — we 
shall  in  less  than  a  twelvemonth  leave  his  French  majesty  never  a  sailor  or 
a  ship  to  his  back,  and  so  he  must  surrender  at  discretion.  But  I  doubt, 
for  my  own  part,  whether  we  shall  have  such  good  luck  as  this  ;  and  it  may 
be  a  year  and  a  half  or  even  two  years  before  we  are  able  to  make  an  ac- 
count of  all  the  French  fleets.  We  have  lost  twelve,  killed  and  wounded ; 
the  second  lieutenant  has  parted  with  half  an  ear,  sliced  off  by  a  French  cut- 
lass, and  the  master's  mate  is  killed,  his  brains  being  blown  out  by  a  pistol 
fired  in  his  face.  But  we  have  revenged  him,  my  dear  Bess.  When  the 
fight  was  over  I  drank  your  health  in  the  wardroom  in  a  tot  of  rum,  being, 
thank  God,  without  a  scratch." 

Here  was  a  gap,  as  if  the  letter  had  been  interrupted  at  this 
point  and  resumed  later  on. 
11 


242  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  We  are  now,  ray  dearest  Bess,  anchored  at  Spithead,  and  about  to  trans- 
fer our  prisoners  up  the  harbor  to  Porchester  Castle,  where  they  are  to  lay 
by  until  the  war  is  ended  or  they  are  exchanged.  'Twill  be  a  change  for 
them  and  a  rest,  and  no  doubt  they  will  be  glad  to  be  out  of  danger.  'Tis 
a  convenient  place  for  a  prison,  having  two  great  towers,  besides  a  smaller 
one,  with  a  high  wall  all  round  and  a  ditch.  Arid  if  the  prisoners  do  escape, 
they  will  find  the  country-side  rejoiced  of  the  opportunity  to  murder  them, 
being  a  savage  people,  and  much  incensed  with  all  French  privateers.  So, 
my  sweetheart,  no  more  at  present  from  thy  faithful  JACK. 

"  Postcriptum. — Thy  true  love-knot  is  round  my  arm,  and  I  wish  my  arm 
was  round  thy  neck.  I  forgot  to  say  that  the  prize  is  the  Mont  Rozier,  of 
La  Rochelle ;  she  is,  we  hope,  to  be  purchased  for  the  king's  navy— a 
handy,  useful  ship,  well  found.  Her  captain  was  killed  in  the  second  part 
of  the  action.  Otherwise,  I  think  he  would  have  been  hanged  for  treachery. 
I  love  thee,  Bess— I  love  thee !" 

There  was  a  beautiful  letter  for  any  girl  to  receive — full  of 
love  and  kisses,  «nd  of  gallant  fighting !  When  I  had  read  it 
through,  she  sat  awhile  perfectly  still,  the  tears  running  down 
her  cheeks.  Then  she  made  me  read  it  again,  more  slowly, 
and  bade  me  mark  with  pencil  the  passages  which  most  she 
fancied.  She  could  not  read  the  writing,  but  she  could  rest 
her  eyes  on  those  places  and  remember  them.  She  was  quick 
at  catching  up  and  remembering  things,  and  when  she  had 
heard  the  letter  read  a  third  time,  she  knew  it  all  by  heart, 
and  never  forgot  it. 

This  was  the  only  letter  which  Jack  ever  wrote  to  his  mis- 
tress. Other  letters  he  wrote  to  the  admiral,  telling  him  of  the 
wonderful  exploits  of  the  Tartar,  and  of  his  share  in  the  ac- 
tions, but  never  a  word  more  to  Bess.  The  days  passed  on, 
and  the  girl  sat,  for  the  most  part  in  silence,  waiting.  So  sat 
Penelope  expectant  of  her  lord.  Still  she  spoke  of  him ;  still 
she  carried  his  letter  in  her  bosom,  wrapped  in  silk,  and  would 
take  it  out  and  gaze  upon  it,  the  tears  rolling  down  her  cheek. 
If  she  hoped  for  another  letter,  if  she  felt  herself  neglected,  if 
she  doubted  his  fidelity,  I  know  not,  for  she  said  nothing. 

In  that  interval  she  grew  more  beautiful.  Her  face,  thus  set 
upon  the  contemplation  of  one  thing,  became  pensive  and  her 
eyes  grave.  She  smiled  seldom,  and  the  loud  laugh  which 
Jack  loved,  but  which  reminded  others  too  much  of  her  former 
associates,  was  no  more  heard.  By  constant  endeavor,  by  imi- 
tation, by  refraining  from  her  old  companions,  and  by  keeping 
guard  over  her  speech,  she  softened,  not  only  her  manner,  but 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  243 

also  her  appearance.  Poor  Bess !  What  would  she  say  and 
suffer  if  she  should  learn  that  her  Jack  had  ceased  to  love 
her?  Yet  what  other  interpretation  could  be  put  upon  his 
long  silence?  It  was  at  Christmas,  1756,  when  the  Tartar 
sailed.  It  was  in  August,  1760,  that  Jack  returned,  and  all 
that  time  only  this  one  letter,  though  there  had  been  many 
written  to  the  admiral. 

"  He  will  find,"  said  Bess,  "  when  he  comes  home,  that  I  can 
read  very  well.  And  I  know  the  charts  of  the  seas  where  he 
sailed.  If  only  he  still  will  think  me  beautiful." 

"  Why,  Bess,"  I  told  her,  "  as  to  beauty,  there  is  no  doubt 
about  it.  So  if  that  is  all  there  is  to  fear,  have  no  pain  on 
that  score."  There  was,  however,  a  great  deal  more  to  fear ; 
but  this  one  dared  not  so  much  as  to  hint  in  her  presence. 

"  There  is  a  storm  brewing,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes ;  "  I  feel  it  in 
the  air.  I  know  not  what  he  may  think  when  he  comes  home  : 
she  is  a  handsome  creature,  and  he  may  be  for  beginning  all 
over  again.  Yet  my  mind  misgives  me.  Why  is  there  no  let- 
ter, nor  never  a  word  to  you,  unless  he  has  forgotten  her  ?  As 
for  falling  in  love  with  another  woman,  that  is  hardly  likely, 
seeing  the  busy  life  the  poor  lad  hath  led.  But  he  hath  for- 
gotten her,  Luke.  Most  women  look  for  nothing  else  than  to 
be  forgotten  when  their  husbands  and  lovers  go  to  sea ;  they 
forget  and  are  forgotten.  Well,  why  not  ?  Better  so ;  then 
they  suffer  the  less  when  one  of  the  men  is  knocked  o'  the 
head  and  another  goes  off  with  some  one  else  when  his  ship  is 
next  paid  off.  But  Bess  is  different,  and  we  have  encouraged 
her ;  there  will  never  be  any  other  man  in  the  world  for  her, 
except  Jack.  So,  my  lad,  look  out,  I  say,  for  squalls." 

Of  course  we  heard  news  of  the  Tartar.  Did  she  not  fill 
half  the  Gazette  ?  There  never  was  so  fortunate  a  ship,  nor  one 
more  gallantly  commanded.  One  cannot  enumerate  or  remem- 
ber half  the  prizes  that  she  made  in  her  first  year's  cruise  in  the 
Channel.  A  month  after  taking  the  Mont  Rozier  she  encoun- 
tered the  Maria  Victoria,  twenty-four  guns  and  two  hundred 
and  twenty-six  men ;  and  after  a  sharp  engagement  compelled 
her  to  strike.  The  ship  was  taken  over  into  the  king's  navy, 
under  the  name  of  the  Tartar's  Prize.  Then,  in  April,  Captain 
Lockhart  fought  the  privateer  Due  d'Aiguillon,  of  twenty-six 
guns  and  two  hundred  and  fifty-four  men.  The  French  did 


244  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

not  surrender  till  they  had  lost  upward  of  fifty  killed  and 
wounded.  In  May  the  privateer  Penelope,  of  eighteen  guns 
and  one  hundred  and  eighty-one  men,  was  taken ;  and  in  Oc- 
tober the  Comtesse  de  Gramont,  eighteen  guns  and  one  hundred 
and  fifty-five  men.  She  also  was  purchased  into  the  navy. 
But  the  crown  of  the  Tartar's  exploits  this  year  was  the  chase 
and  capture  of  the  Melampe,  of  Bayonne,  one  of  the  finest 
privateers  ever  sent  out  from  port.  She  was  mounted  with 
thirty-six  guns,  and  had  a  crew  of  three  hundred  and  thirty 
men.  The  Tartar  chased  her  for  thirty  hours,  and  fought  her 
for  three  hours  before  she  struck.  She  also  was  added  to  the 
king's  navy  as  a  thirty-six  gun  frigate ;  and  a  very  useful  ves- 
sel she  proved. 

Such  achievements  as  these  greatly  disheartened  the  French, 
and  raised  our  own  spirits.  They  did  not,  it  is  true,  quite 
reach  the  ambitious  aims  of  the  master  of  the  Tartar ;  yet 
they  called  forth  the  gratitude  of  the  nation.  Therefore,  at 
the  end  of  the  year,  the  merchants  of  London  and  Bristol  com- 
bined to  present  Captain  Lockhart  with  pieces  of  plate ;  the 
first  lieutentant  of  the  Tartar  was  transferred  to  the  command 
of  the  Tartar's  prize  the  Melampe,  which  was  renamed  the 
Sapphire;  Jack  was  transferred  to  this  ship,  with  the  first 
lieutenant ;  and  the  master  of  the  Tartar  was  promoted  to  be 
lieutenant.  As  for  the  prize-money  due  to  the  officers  and 
men,  that  amounted  to  a  very  pretty  sum ;  but  I  do  not  know 
how  much  fell  to  Jack  as  his  share. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

LIEUTENANT    AARON    FLETCHER. 

WE,  who  are  always  slower  than  the  French — "  but,"  said 
Jack,  "  we  hold  on  the  tighter  " — now  began  to  send  out  priva- 
teers on  our  own  account,  though  for  the  most  part  neither  so 
numerous  nor  so  well  found  as  the  French.  The  men  were 
not  wanting,  nor  the  spirit,  but  the  prizes  were  not  so  many, 
and  the  prospect  of  gain  not  so  attractive  to  our  English  sea- 
coast  men  as  to  the  French.  Mention  has  been  made  of  a  ship 
building  in  Mr.  Taylor's  yard  at  Rotherhithe ;  Jack  was  right 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY  WELL    THEN.  245 

when  he  pronounced  her  fit  for  something  better  than  a  lub- 
berly sugar-ship.  She  was,  in  fact,  the  venture  of  a  company 
of  London  merchants,  and  she  was  intended  from  the  first  for 
letters -of -marque.  A  dangerous  venture;  but  there  was  re- 
venge in  it,  as  well  as  the  hope  of  profit ;  and,  besides,  two  or 
three  successful  cruises  will  sometimes  cover  the  whole  cost  of 
ship  and  crew,  even  if  on  the  next  voyage  the  ship  is  wrecked 
or  taken.  As  for  a  crew,  there  is  not  much  difficulty  in  get- 
ting volunteers  for  a  privateer,  where  there  is  no  flogging,  and 
for  the  most  part"  no  discipline,  and  an  officer  has  very  little 
more  authority  than  he  can  command  with  fist  and  rope's-end. 
The  prospect  of  taking  some  rich  merchantman  from  Marti- 
nique, laden  with  a  great  cargo  of  spices  and  sugar,  is  attrac- 
tive, to  say  nothing  of  the  fighting,  the  chance  of  which,  hap- 
pily, ever  inflames  a  Briton's  heart.  No  such  desperate  actions 
are  recorded  during  this  war  as  those  in  which  our  privateers 
were  engaged.  The  best  privateersmen  are  said  to  be  not  the 
regular  seamen,  to  whom  an  action  comes  as  part  of  the  day's 
work,  but  those  amphibious  creatures  found  all  round  our 
coast,  and  especially  about  the  Channel,  who  pretend  to  be  en- 
gaged in  the  most  innocent  and  harmless  pursuits,  and  may  be 
found  following  the  plough  or  driving  the  quill,  or  with  an 
apron  in  a  barber's  shop  flouring  a  wig,  or  even  behind  a  gro- 
cer's counter  weighing  out  pounds  of  sugar.  Yet  this  is  but  a 
show  and  pretence,  and  their  real  trade  takes  them  to  and  fro 
across  the  Channel,  to  the  great  detriment  of  his  majesty's  rev- 
enue. Privateering  to  such  as  these  is  a  kind  of  smuggling, 
but  a  finer  kind,  which  one  follows  without  the  necessity  of 
sometimes  fighting  the  king's  officers,  and  sometimes  murder- 
ing an  informer.  Moreover,  a  fat  merchantman  is  a  far  richer 
prize  to  bring  home  than  a  boat-load  of  kegs.  Therefore,  when 
the  Porcupine  (so  they  called  her)  was  launched  and  fitted  and 
armed  with  eighteen  nine  -  pounders  and  two  six -pounders  for 
her  quarter  -  deck,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  finding  a  crew 
of  picked  men  as  good  as  any  on  board  a  king's  ship,  though 
lacking  in  discipline — a  hundred  and  twenty  in  all.  The  crew 
of  the  Porcupine,  indeed,  showed  the  stuff  of  which  they  were 
made  before  the  ship  sailed.  It  was  in  September  of  the  year 
1757,  when  the  hottest  press  ever  known  in  the  Thames  was 
undertaken,  and  not  only  were  the  lanes  and  alleys  of  Deptford, 


246  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Wapping,  and  Katcliff  scoured  for  skulking  watermen  and  sea- 
men— the  river  being  wholly  deserted  for  fear  of  the  press- 
gang — but  also  the  colliers  and  ships  in  the  Pool  were  boarded 
and  their  men  taken,  leaving  no  more  than  two  able  seamen  for 
every  hundred  tons,  according  to  William  the  Third's  Act. 
The  gang  boarded  the  Porcupine,  but  the  men  seized  their  arms 
and  threatened  to  fight  for  their  liberty,  whereat  the  lieutenant 
in  command  withdrew  his  men  and  sheered  off,  judging  it  pru- 
dent not  to  engage  his  company  of  a  dozen  or  twenty  with  six- 
score  resolute  fellows. 

Meantime  Mr.  Brinjes's  prediction  of  misfortune  as  regards 
Aaron  Fletcher  came  true — one  knows  not  whether  he  did  any- 
thing by  his  own  black  arts  to  bring  about  the  calamities  which 
fell  upon  him  at  this  time.  For,  first  of  all,  his  boat,  as  fast  a 
sailer  as  might  be  found  for  crossing  the  Channel,  was  picked 
up  by  a  French  privateer,  who  cared  nothing  for  her  being  en- 
gaged in  smuggling  or  in  conveying  information  or  spies  back- 
ward and  forward  from  France  to  England  or  from  England  to 
France.  All  is  fish  that  comes  to  the  Frenchman's  net.  There- 
fore the  Willing  Mind  was  taken  in  tow,  and  presently  sold  at 
auction  in  Boulogne  Harbor ;  and  so  Aaron  lost  not  only  his 
boat,  but  also  his  crew  of  three  men,  who  were  like  rats  for 
wariness,  and  could  speak  both  French  and  English. 

Thus  went  the  greater  part  of  his  business ;  and  he  hung  his 
head,  going  in  great  heaviness,  and  in  his  cups  cursing  the 
apothecary,  whose  blood  he  threatened  to  spill,  for  causing  his 
boat  to  be  taken.  But  worse  followed.  His  boat -building 
yard  had  become  slack  of  work,  and  most  of  his  hands  were 
discharged.  This  was  caused  by  his  own  neglect,  and  might 
have  been  repaired  by  steady  attention  to  business.  Unhap- 
pily, one  night  the  yard  took  fire,  and  everything  was  burned 
except  the  little  cottage  within  the  gates,  where  Aaron  lived 
alone.  And  then,  indeed,  he  raged  like  a  lion,  swearing  that 
he  would  kill,  maim,  and  torture  that  devil  of  an  apothecary 
who  thus  pursued  him.  But  Mr.  Brinjes  was  no  whit  ter- 
rified. 

Despite  these  things,  we  were  all  surprised  to  hear  that  Aaron 
was  going  on  board  the  Porcupine  privateer ;  and  still  more  as- 
tonished when  we  learned  that  he  was  appointed  third  lieuten- 
ant, his  proper  place  being  before  the  mast,  or,  at  best,  bo's'n's 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          247 

mate,  or  gunner's  mate,  for  he  was  quite  an  illiterate  fellow, 
who  had  learned  nothing  of  taking  an  observation,  except  how 
to  make  it  noon,  and  knew  nothing,  save  by  rule  of  thumb,  of 
navigation.  However,  he  knew  the  coast  of  France  as  well  as 
any  Frenchman,  which  was,  I  suppose,  the  reason  why  he  was 
appointed  an  officer ;  and,  besides,  he  had  acquired  (and  truly 
deserved)  in  Deptford,  Greenwich,  and  Rotherhithe  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  brave,  reckless  dog,  who  would  fight  like  a  bull- 
dog. For  such  work  as  was  wanted  of  him,  no  doubt  he  was 
as  good  as  any  man  who  had  passed  his  examination  in  Seeth- 
ing Lane. 

Then  Aaron  got  himself  a  coat  of  blue,  like  that  worn  by  the 
king's  officers  (but  without  the  white  facings),  edged  with  gold 
— very  fine.  This  he  put  on,  with  white  stockings,  white 
breeches,  and  a  crimson  sash,  with  a  hanger — for  all  the  world 
as  if  he  were  lieutenant  of  the  royal  navy — and  a  hat  trimmed 
with  gold-lace.  Thus  attired  he  strutted  up  the  street,  the 
boys  shouting  after  him,  till  he  came  to  Mr.  Westmoreland's 
shop,  where  Bess  sat  at  the  door,  her  work  in  her  hand.  "  Well, 
Bess,"  he  said,  "  nothing  was  good  enough  for  thee  but  an  of- 
ficer and  a  gentleman.  I  am  an  officer  now,  and  if  any  man 
dares  to  say  I  am  not  a  gentleman,  I  will  fight  him  with  any 
weapon  he  pleases.  Since  one  officer  has  gone  away,  Bess, 
take  on  with  another.  Don't  think  I  bear  a  grudge.  Nay,  I 
love  thee  still,  lass,  in  spite  of  thy  damned  unfriendly  ways." 

"You  an  officer,  Aaron?"  Women  like  fine  feathers  for 
themselves,  but  they  are  never  dazzled  with  fine  feathers  in 
others.  "  You  an  officer  ?"  She  surveyed  him  calmly  from 
head  to  foot.  "  White  stockings  do  not  make  a  gentleman. 
Your  clothes  are  grand,  to  be  sure.  Pity  you  have  not  a  bet- 
ter shirt  to  match  so  fine  a  coat."  Aaron's  linen,  in  truth,  had 
neither  lace  nor  ruffles,  and  his  cravat  was  but  a  speckled  ker- 
chief. "  Go,  change  thy  linen,  Aaron,  before  pretending  to  be 
a  gentleman.  Well,"  she  continued,  perceiving  that  he  was,  as 
she  desired  him  to  be,  abashed  by  the  discovery  of  this  defi- 
ciency, "  as  for  thy  dress,  'twill  serve  for  a  privateer.  Go  fight 
the  French,  Aaron,  and  bring  home  plenty  of  prize-money. 
But  think  not  thyself  a  gentleman." 

So  she  went  in-doors  and  left  him.  I  know  not  whether  he 
bought  himself  a  shirt  to  match  the  coat,  but  I  am  sure  that  on 


248  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY  WELL  THEN. 

board  the  white  stockings  and  the  white  breeches  were  safely 
stowed  away,  and  a  homelier  garb  assumed. 

Aaron's  sea-going  lasted  no  great  while.  The  captain  of  the 
Porcupine  was  a  certain  Stephen  Murdon,  who  had  commanded 
an  armed  merchantman  in  the  China  trade,  in  which  he  had 
seen  fighting  with  the  pirates,  Chinese  and  Malay,  which  infest 
the  narrow  seas.  He  was  a  very  brisk,  courageous  fellow,  skil- 
ful in  handling  his  ship ;  and  she  being  a  fast  sailer  he  was 
generally  able  to  choose  or  to  decline  an  engagement,  as  suited 
him  best.  For  instance,  he  would  not  engage  a  French  priva- 
teer if  he  could  avoid  so  doing,  on  the  principle  that  it  is  fool- 
ish for  dog  to  bite  dog,  and  because  it  is  the  business  of  the 
king's  ships  to  clear  the  Channel  of  privateers ;  but  with  a  mer- 
chantman, however  strong,  he  was  like  a  bloodhound  for  the 
chase,  and  a  bull-dog  for  fighting.  I  do  not  know  how  much 
prize-money  he  would  have  made  for  himself,  but  his  owners 
were  at  first  very  much  pleased  with  their  venture,  and  prom- 
ised themselves  great  returns.  Unfortunately  a  circumstance 
happened  which  brought  the  Porcupine's  cruise  to  an  untimely 
end.  There  were  many  complaints  from  Holland  against  the 
English  privateers,  who  mistook  Dutch  for  French  colors,  and 
treated  them  accordingly.  Captain  Murdon  was  one  of  those 
who  were  suspicious  of  Dutch  colors.  Unfortunately  he  one 
day  overhauled  a  Dutch  vessel  conveying  to  Amsterdam  no  less 
a  personage  than  the  Spanish  ambassador;  and,  on  the  pre- 
tence that  she  was  sailing  under  false  colors,  plundered  the 
ship,  taking  out  of  her,  as  the  complaint  of  the  captain  set 
forth,  a  purse  containing  seventeen  guineas,  twenty  deal  boxes 
containing  valuable  stuffs,  and  three  bales  of  cambric,  the  whole 
valued  at  two  hundred  guineas.  Nor  was  this  all,  for  this  au- 
dacious Captain  Murdon  helped  himself  as  well  to  his  excel- 
lency's chests  and  cases  containing  jewels  and  treasures. 

There  was  a  great  outcry  about  this  affair,  and  Captain  Mur- 
don (who  was  very  well  known  to  have  done  it,  but  it  was  pre- 
tended there  was  no  evidence)  hastened  to  hand  over  the  Por- 
cupine to  her  owners,  paid  off  his  crew,  and  recommended  his 
officers  to  lie  snug  for  a  while.  I  know  not  who  had  the  booty, 
but  the  officers  and  crew  had  none.  As  for  himself,  he  was 
provided  with  a  ship  in  the  East  India  trade,  so  as  to  get  more 
speedily  out  of  the  country.  The  government  offered  twenty 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         249 

pounds  reward  for  the  discovery  of  the  ship  which  had  thus 
insulted  a  friendly  power ;  but  no  one  took  the  offer  seriously, 
and  war  immediately  afterwards  breaking  out  with  Spain,  no 
further  trouble  was  taken  in  the  matter.  But  thus  Aaron's 
chances  of  prize-money  were  lost,  and  he  himself  returned  to 
Deptford  little  richer  than  when  he  went  away.  Captain  Mur- 
don  offered  him,  it  is  true,  a  berth  on  board  his  new  ship ;  but 
Aaron  had  no  desire  to  go  fighting  Chinese  pirates,  and  there- 
fore stayed  at  home.  Then  he  began  to  pretend  that  he  was 
putting  up  his  building-sheds  again ;  but,  as  you  shall  see,  he 
had  no  luck :  his  fortune  had  deserted  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

HOW    MR.   BRINJES    EXERCISED    HIS    POWERS. 

IT  was  on  Saturday,  the  last  day  of  June,  in  the  year  of 
grace  1760  (our  lieutenant  having  then  been  away  at  sea  two 
years  and  a  half),  and  on  the  stroke  of  seven,  that  Mr.  Brinjes 
sallied  forth  from  his  shop.  He  was  dressed — being  now  on 
his  way  to  the  club  at  the  Sir  John  Falstaff — in  his  black  velvet 
coat  with  lace  ruffles ;  he  carried  his  laced  hat  under  his  arm, 
and  had  upon  his  head  his  vast  wig,  whose  threatening  f  oretop, 
majestic  with  depending  knots,  before  and  behind  the  shoul- 
ders, proclaimed  his  calling.  In  his  hand  he  bore  his  gold- 
headed  stick  (not  the  famous  skull-stick) ;  his  stockings,  which 
in  the  morning  were  of  gray  woollen,  knitted  by  the  hands  of 
Bess,  were  now  of  white  silk ;  and  his  shoes  were  adorned  with 
silver  buckles.  He  was  no  longer  apothecary  to  the  scum  of 
Deptford :  he  was  in  appearance  a  grave  and  learned  physician. 
Yet  if  one  looked  more  closely,  it  might  be  discerned  that 
the  wig  was  ill  dressed ;  the  ruffles  at  his  wrist  torn  ;  that  one 
or  two  of  the  silver  buttons  had  fallen  from  his  coat  sleeves ; 
that  his  stockings  were  splashed  a  little,  and  there  was  a  rent 
in  one ;  and  that  his  shoes  were  only  smeared,  not  brightened. 
These,  however,  were  defects  which  Mr.  Brinjes  did  not  heed. 
It  was  enough  for  him  to  possess  and  to  wear  a  coat  and  a  wig 
which  became  the  company  which  met  at  the  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

He  stood  awhile  looking  up  and  down  the  street,  first  cast- 
11* 


250  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ing  his  eye  upward  to  note  the  weather — a  thing  which  no  one 
who  has  been  a  sailor  neglects,  whether  he  goes  upon  deck  or 
leaves  the  house.  The  sky  was  clear,  the  wind  southerly,  and 
the  now  declining  sun  shone  upon  the  houses,  so  that,  though 
mean  and  low,  they  glowed  in  splendor,  and  the  apothecary's 
silver  pestle  showed  as  if  it  were  of  pure,  solid  silver,  and  the 
penman's  golden  quill  as  if  it  were  indeed  of  burnished  gold, 
and  the  barber's  brass  vessels  across  the  way,  catching  the  sun 
by  reflection,  shone  as  if  they  too  were  of  gold ;  while  the  dia- 
mond panes  of  the  upper  lattice  windows  were  all  on  fire,  and 
one's  eyes  could  not  brook  to  gaze  upon  them ;  the  red  tiles  of 
the  gables,  though  they  were  overgrown  with  moss,  seemed  as 
if  they  had  newly  left  the  potter's  hands ;  and  the  timber-work 
of  the  house  fronts  was  like  unto  black  marble  or  porphyry. 
No  painting  was  ever  more  splendid  than  those  mean  houses 
under  the  summer  evening's  sunlight.  At  the  barber's  door 
there  arose  a  curious  cloud,  which  produced  an  effect  as  of  a 
white  mist  rising  from  the  ground.  It  was,  however,  nothing 
but  one  of  the  'prentices  flouring  the  vicar's  wig  for  Sunday. 
Lower  down  the  street  there  was  leaning  against  a  post  the  tall 
form  of  Aaron  Fletcher.  He  had  nothing  now  in  his  appear- 
ance of  the  gallant  privateer,  being  dressed  as  becomes  a  trades- 
man, in  a  fur  cap,  gray  stockings,  round  shoes,  and  a  drugget 
waistcoat ;  yet  there  was  in  him  something  that  looked  like  a 
sailor:  however  you  disguise  him,  the  sailor  always  betrays 
himself.  His  hands  were  in  his  waistcoat  pockets,  and  his 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  Golden  Quill,  because  he  hungered 
still  for  a  sight  of  the  girl  who  lived  beneath  that  sign.  In 
spite  of  his  strength  and  his  courage,  one  word  from  Bess 
would  have  made  this  giant  as  weak  as  a  reed.  But  as  for  her, 
she  would  no  more  so  much  as  speak  friendly  with  him,  being 
angered  at  his  importunity. 

Bess  sat  in  the  open  doorway,  partly  screened  from  the  glare 
of  the  evening,  and  partly  sitting  in  the  open  sunshine,  because 
she  was  not  one  of  those  who  fear  to  hurt  their  complexions. 
She  was  working  at  something  which  lay  in  her  lap,  and  sat 
with  her  back  turned  to  Aaron,  as  if  she  knew  that  he  was 
there,  and  would  not  so  much  as  look  at  him.  Through 
the  door  one  might  see  her  father  at  his  work,  spectacles  on 
nose. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         251 

Mr.  Brinjes  looked  at  her,  still  standing  before  his  own  door. 
Then  she  raised  her  head,  hearing  his  footstep,  and  laughed. 
She  always  laughed  at  sight  of  Mr.  Brinjes  in  the  evening,  be- 
cause, in  his  great  wig  and  velvet  coat,  on  his  way  to  the  club, 
he  was  so  different  from  Mr.  Brinjes  in  his  scratch  or  his  night- 
cap, sitting  in  his  parlor  or  his  shop. 

"  Saucy  baggage  !"  said  the  apothecary.  "Stand  up,  and  let 
me  see  how  tall  thou  art." 

She  obeyed,  and  stood  up,  overtopping  Mr.  Brinjes  by  more 
than  the  f oretop  of  his  wig ;  she  was,  in  fact,  five  feet  eight 
inches  in  height,  as  I  know,  because  I  measured  her  about  this 
time.  It  is  a  great  stature  for  a  woman.  She  was  now  past 
her  twenty-first  year,  and  therefore  full  grown,  and  no  longer 
so  slim  and  slender  in  figure  as  when  Jack  sailed  away  at 
Christmas,  in  the  year  seventeen  hundred  and  fifty-six.  She 
was  now  a  woman  fully  formed  ;  her  waist  not  slender,  as  fine 
ladies  fondly  love  to  have  it,  but  like  the  ancient  statues  for 
amplitude,  her  shoulders  large  and  square  rather  than  sloping^ 
her  neck  full  and  yet  long,  her  skin  of  the  whitest,  her  hair 
and  eyes  of  the  blackest ;  as  for  the  eyes,  they  were  large  and 
full,  and  slow  rather  than  quick  of  movement — a  thing  which 
betokens  an  amorous  or  passionate  disposition ;  her  face,  as 
one  sees  in  the  faces  of  certain  Italian  painters,  with  an  ample 
check,  full  and  rosy  lips,  with  a  straight  nose  and  low  forehead. 
About  her  head  she  had  tied  a  kerchief.  For  my  own  part,  I 
have  always  maintained  that  Bess  was  the  most  beautiful  wom- 
an I  had  ever  looked  upon  in  Deptf ord  or  anywhere  else,  though 
one  may  admit,  what  Castilla  insists,  that,  however  beautiful  a 
girl  may  be,  she  belongs  to  her  own  class.  Truly,  all  poor 
Bess's  troubles  came  to  her  because  she  loved  a  gentleman. 

Mr.  Brinjes  surveyed  her  critically.  Then  he  sighed,  and 
said,  "  Thou  art,  I  swear,  Bess,  fit  for  the  gods  themselves. 
Well,  child  ?"  and  then  he  sighed  again. 

"  Is  there  news  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  hear  of  none,"  he  replied,  gravely.  "  Bess,  the  time  goes 
on.  Is  it  well  to  waste  thy  youth  on  a  man  who  comes  not 
back  ?  There  are  other  men — " 

"  Talk  not  to  me,"  she  cried,  impatiently — "  talk  not  to  me 
of  other  men.  There  is  no  other  man  in  the  world  for  me  but 
Jack.  As  for  other  men,  I  scorn  'em." 


252  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

She  drew  from  her  bosom  half  a  sixpence,  tied  to  a  piece  of 
black  ribbon.  This  she  kissed  and  put  back  again. 

"  It  is  long  since  we  had  news  of  him,"  Mr.  Brinjes  went  on, 
doubtfully,  and  dropping  his  voice,  because  Mr.  Westmoreland 
sat  within,  poring  over  his  books. 

"  He  loves  me,"  she  replied,  in  a  whisper.  And  the  thought 
caused  her  cheek  to  glow,  and  her  eyes  became  humid.  "  He 
told  me  he  should  always  love  me.  Why,  a  man  cannot  be 
continually  writing  letters.  He  wrote  to  me  once,  which  is 
enough — to  tell  me  again  that  he  loves  me.  And  I  think  of 
him  all  day  long." 

"  Well  said,  girl !  That  is  only  what  is  due  to  so  gallant  a 
lover." 

"  I  belong  to  him — I  am  all  his.  Why  else  should  I  desire 
to  live  ?  Why  do  I  go  to  church,  if  not  to  pray  for  him !" 

"  Good  girl !  Good  girl !  Would  that  all  women  had  such 
constant  hearts !  I  have  known  many  women,  whether  at 
home,  or  at  Kingston,  or  on  the  Guinea  Coast.  Some  I  have 
known  jealous;  some  full  of  tricks  and  tempers;  but  never  a 
one  among  them  all  to  be  constant.  Good  girl,  Bess !" 

"  Sometimes  I  think — oh  ! — suppose  he  should  never  come 
back  at  all !  or  suppose  I  should  learn  that  another  woman  had 
entrapped  him  with  her  horrid  arts  !" 

Mr.  Brinjes  smiled,  as  one  who  knows  the  world.  "  Sailors 
do  sometimes  fall  into  traps,"  he  said.  "  They  are  everywhere 
laid  for  sailors.  Perhaps  in  another  port — nay,  in  half  a  dozen 
ports,  he  may  have  found — nay,  child,  be  not  uneasy.  Why  " 
— here  he  swore  as  roundly  as  if  he  had  been  an  admiral  at 
least — "  a  thousand  girls  shall  be  forgotten  when  once  he  sees 
thy  handsome  face  again.  What  though  his  thoughts  may 
have  gone  a-roving — though  I  say  not  that  they  have — they 
will  come  home.  The  lieutenant  will  be  true.  Gad !  There 
cannot  be  a  single  Jack  of  all  the  Jacks  afloat  who  would  not 
joyfully  come  back  to  such  a  sweetheart." 

"  Oh,  yes !"  She  made  as  if  she  would  draw  something  else 
from  her  bosom,  but  refrained.  "  I  have  his  letter,  his  dear 
letter.  Jack  is  true.  He  swore  that  no  one  should  ever  come 
between  him  and  me." 

"  There  is  another  thing,  child.  He  left  thee,  Bess,  a  slip 
of  a  girl  seventeen  years  old,  with  little  but  great  black  locks 


;  Mr.  Brinjes  surveyed  her  critically.     Then  lie  sighed  and  said,  '  Thou 
art,  I  swear,  Bess,  fit  for  the  gods  themselves!' " 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         253 

and  roguish  tricks.  When  he  comes  back  he  will  find  another 
Bess." 

"  Oh  !"  she  cried,  in  alarm.     "  But  he  will  expect  the  same." 

"  And  such  a  Bess — such  a  beautiful  Bess — fit  for  a  prince's 
love." 

"  I  want  no  prince  but  Jack,"  said  Bess,  her  eyes  soft  and 
humid  and  her  lips  parted. 

"  He  will  be  satisfied.  Rosy  lips  and  black  eyes,  shapely 
head  and  apple  cheek,  dimpled  chin  and  smiling  mouth,  and 
such  a  throat !  I  have  seen  such,  Bess,  in  the  girls  ,of  the 
Guinea  Coast  when  they  are  young ;  just  such  a  throat  as  thine 
— as  slender  and  as  round,  though  shiny  black.  For  my  own 
part,  I  love  the  color." 

"  Happy  boy !  happy  girl !"  he  cried,  after  sighing  heavily. 
"  I  would  I  were  young  again,  to  fight  this  lover  for  his  mis- 
tress. Tedious  it  is  to  look  on  at  the  game  which  one  would 
still  be  playing." 

"  There  is  one  thing  which  troubles  me,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
the  importunity  of  Aaron,  who  will  never  take  nay  for  his  an- 
swer. He  comes  every  evening — nay,  sometimes  in  the  morn- 
ing— telling  me  the  lieutenant  has  forgotten  me,  and  offering 
to  take  his  place.  And  he  will  still  be  saying  things  of  Jack 
(who  cudgelled  him  so  famously).  If  I  were  a  man  I  would 
beat  him  till  he  roared  for  mercy."  Her  eyes  now  flashed 
fire,  I  warrant  you,  sleepy  and  calm  as  they  had  looked  before. 
"  But  I  can  do  nothing,  and  Luke  is  too  small  and  weak  to 
fight  so  great  a  man.  He  stands  there  now — look  at  him !" 

"Patience,  my  girl — patience.  I  will  tackle  this  lovesick 
shepherd." 

More  he  would  have  said,  but  Mr.  Westmoreland  himself 
came  to  the  door,  his  quill  behind  his  ear,  with  round  specta- 
cles on  his  nose,  blinking  in  the  sunshine  like  an  owl  or  a  bat, 
as  if  the  light  was  too  much  for  him.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
rusty-brown  coat,  worn  so  long  that  the  sleeves  had  exactly  as- 
sumed the  shape  of  his  arms ;  the  cuff  of  the  right  arm  was 
shiny,  where  it  had  rubbed  against  the  table  ;  and  the  back  was 
shiny,  where  it  had  rubbed  against  his  chair.  On  his  head  was 
a  nightcap  of  worsted.  Strange  it  was  that  so  feeble  a  creat- 
ure should  be  father  of  such  a  tall,  strong,  and  lovely  girl.  Yet 
these  contrasts  are  not  unknown. 


254  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  A  fine  evening,  Mr.  Brinjes,"  he  quavered,  in  his  squeaky 
voice ;  "  a  fine  evening,  truly." 

"  Truly,  Mr.  Westmoreland." 

"  Is  there  news  of  the  lieutenant  ?" 

"  I  have  none,  sir." 

"  Pray  Heaven  he  be  not  killed  or  cast  away.  Many  brave 
youths  are  nowadays  killed  or  cast  away  at  sea.  You  remem- 
ber Jack  Easterbrook,  Bess  ?"  She  looked  at  Mr.  Brinjes  and 
smiled.  "  I  have  never  had  a  scholar  (to  call  a  scholar)  like 
unto  him.  Dolts  and  blockheads  are  they  all,  compared  with 
him.  Never  such  a  lad — never  such  a  lad  for  quickness  and 
for  parts." 

Mr.  Brinjes  nodded,  and  went  on  his  way.  Mr.  Westmore- 
land spread  his  hands  out  in  the  sunshine  as  one  who  stands 
before  a  warm  fire,  and  he  pushed  back  his  nightcap  as  if  to 
warm  his  skull.  But  his  daughter  sat  still,  the  knitting-needles 
idle  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  fixed  as  one  who  hath  a  vision, 
and  her  lips  parted  as  in  a  dream  of  happiness.  Poor  child ! 
it  was  her  last. 

Mr.  Brinjes  walked  slowly  down  the  street  until  he  came  to 
Aaron  Fletcher.  Then  he  stopped,  and  surveyed  the  man  from 
head  to  foot. 

" Aaron,"  he  said,  "have  a  care — have  a  care.  Thou  hast 
been  warned  already.  A  certain  girl,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
is  food  for  thy  betters,  master  boat -builder  —  food  for  thy 
betters." 

Aaron  muttered  something. 

"  Why,  it  is  but  two  years  and  a  half  agone,  if  thou  wilt  re- 
member, good  Aaron,  that  a  certain  thing  happened.  Where- 
fore I  warned  thee  that  trouble  would  follow.  Has  it  followed  ? 
Where  is  the  Willing  Mind  ?  Captured  by  the  French.  Where 
is  the  prize-money  thou  wast  to  get  from  the  privateer  ?  Her 
cruise  was  cut  short.  Where  is  thy  building  -  yard  ?  It  is 
burned  down.  Where  is  thy  business?  It  is  gone.  Thus 
would-be  murderers  are  rightly  punished.  Wherefore,  good 
Aaron,  again  I  say,  have  a  care." 

Aaron  made  no  reply,  but  shuffled  his  feet. 

"  And  what  do  we  here  ?"  Mr.  Brinjes  asked,  sternly.  "  Do 
we  wait  about  the  street  in  hopes  of  catching  a  look — a  covet- 
ous and  a  wanton  look  —  upon  a  face  that  belongs  to  another 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  255 

man?  Aaron  Fletcher,  Aaron  Fletcher,  I  have  warned  thee 
before." 

"  With  submission,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  "  the  street  is 
free  to  all.  As  for  my  betters,  a  boat-builder  is  as  good  as  a 
penman,  I  take  it." 

"  Go  home,  boy ;  go  home.  Leave  Bess  alone,  or  it  will  be 
worse  for  thee." 

"  I  take  my  answer  from  none  but  Bess." 

"  She  hath  given  thee  an  answer." 

Here  the  young  man  plucked  up  courage,  and  fell  to  railing 
and  cursing  at  Mr.  Brinjes  himself — a  thing  which  no  one  else 
in  the  whole  town  would  have  dared  to  do — not  only  for  losing 
him  his  boat  and  building-yard  by  wicked  machinations  and 
magic,  but  also  for  standing,  he  said,  between  him  and  the  girl 
he  loved,  and  keeping  her  mind  filled  with  nonsense  about  a 
king's  officer,  who  had  gone  away  and  forgotten  her,  whereas,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  this  meddlesome  old  apothecary — the  devil 
fly  away  with  him,  and  all  like  unto  him ! — the  girl  would  have 
been  his  own  long  ago,  and  he  would  have  made  her  happy. 

"  Here  is  fine  talk !"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  at  length,  and  after 
hearing  him  without  the  least  signs  of  anger.  "Here  is  a 
proper  gamecock !  Aaron,  thou  must  have  a  lesson.  So ! 
That  hollow  tooth  of  thine,  my  lad — the  one  at  the  back,  the 
last  but  one  in  the  left-hand  lower  jaw !"  The  fellow  started 
and  turned  pale.  "  Go  home  now  quickly."  Here  Mr.  Brinjes 
shook  the  gold  head  of  his  walking-stick  threateningly,  while 
his  one  eye  flamed  up  like  a  train  of  powder.  "  Go  home ;  -on 
thy  way  the  tooth  will  begin  to  shoot  and  prick  as  with  fiery 
needles.  Go,  therefore,  to  bed  immediately.  It  will  next  feel 
as  if  a  red-hot  iron  were  clapped  to  it  and  held  there,  and  thy 
cheek  will  swell  like  a  hasty-pudding.  The  pain  will  last  all 
night.  In  the  morning  come  to  me,  and  perhaps,  if  I  am  mer- 
ciful, and  thou  showest  signs  of  grace  and  repentance,  I  will 
pull  out  the  tooth.  Thou  canst  meditate  all  night  long  on  the 
incomparable  graces  of  the  girl  who  can  never  be  thy  sweet- 
heart." 

The  young  man  received  this  command  with  awe-struck  eyes 
and  pale  cheek.  Then  he  obeyed,  going  away  with  hanging 
head  and  dangling  hands — a  gamecock  with  the  spirit  knocked 
out  of  him. 


256  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN". 

Strange  that  a  doctor  should  be  able  to  cause  as  well  as  cure 
disease !  As  Aaron  Fletcher  drew  near  to  his  workshop  he 
felt  the  first  sharp  pang  and  pricking  of  toothache.  When  he 
reached  his  bed  the  misery  was  intolerable.  All  night  long  he 
rolled  upon  his  pallet,  groaning.  In  the  morning  he  repaired 
to  Mr.  Brinjes,  dumfounded,  his  face  tied  up,  seeking  for  noth- 
ing but  relief. 

"Aha !"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  Here  is  our  lad  of  spirit — here 
is  our  lover !  Love  hath  its  thorns,  Aaron,  as  well  as  its  roses. 
Sit  down — sit  down.  The  basin,  James — and  cold  water.  It 
is  a  grinder,  and  will  take  a  strong  pull.  Hold  back  his  head, 
James — and  his  mouth  wide  open.  So — with  a  will,  my  lad. 
It  is  done.  Go  no  more  to  the  neighborhood  of  Bess  West- 
moreland, my  lad.  'Tis  a  brave  tooth,  and  might  have  last- 
ed a  lifetime.  The  neighborhood  of  Bess  Westmoreland  is 
draughty,  full  of  toothaches  and  rheumatisms.  I  think  I  saw 
another  hollow  grinder  on  the  other  side.  Take  great  care, 
Aaron.  Avoid  Church  Lane,  especially  in  the  evening.  Go 
thy  way  now,  and  be  thankful  that  things  are  no  worse." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

IN    COMMAND. 

WHEN  Mr.  Brinjes  had  disposed  of  this  importunate  swain, 
he  went  on  his  way,  and  presently  entered  the  Blue  Parlor, 
where  some  of  the  gentlemen  were  already  assembled,  waiting 
for  the  arrival  of  their  president  or  chairman,  the  admiral,  who 
was  not  long  in  coming,  with  his  escort  of  negroes. 

When  he  had  taken  his  seat,  his  pipe  filled,  his  gold-headed 
stick  within  reach,  he  rapped  upon  the  table  once. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  good-evening,  one  and  all." 

Then  he  rapped  upon  the  table  twice. 

Immediately  the  landlord  appeared  at  the  door,  bearing  in  his 
hand  a  great  steaming  bowl  of  punch,  which  he  placed  before 
the  president.  One  of  the  negroes  filled  a  brimming  glass  and 
gave  it  to  his  master.  Then  he  filled  for  the  others,  and  passed 
the  glasses  round ;  and  the  admiral,  standing  up,  shouted, 
"  Gentlemen,  his  majesty's  health,  and  confusion  to  his  enemies !" 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  257 

This  done,  he  sat  down,  and  prepared  to  spend  a  cheerful 
evening. 

By  this  time  it  was  eight  o'clock,  though  not  yet  sunset, 
though  the  western  sky  was  red  and  the  sun  low  in  the  west. 
With  much  whistling  of  pipes  and  ringing  of  bells  the  day's 
work  at  the  yard  hard  by  was  brought  to  a  close.  Whereupon 
a  sudden  stillness  fell  upon  the  air,  broken  only  by  the  hoarse 
cries  and  calls  from  the  ships  in  mid-river  now  working  slowly 
up-stream,  with  flow  of  tide  and  a  light  breeze  from  the  south 
or  southeast. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  admiral,  with  importance,  "  I  have  this 
day  received  despatches  from  Jack  Easterbrook,  my  ward,  which 
I  have  brought  with  me  to  gladden  your  hearts,  as  they  have 
gladdened  mine."  He  tugged  a  packet  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
laid  it  on  the  table  before  him.  "  He  writes,"  continued  the 
admiral,  "from  his  ship,  the  Sapphire  frigate,  Captain  John 
Strachan,  and,  to  begin  with,  the  letter  is  dated  November,  but 
appears  to  have  been  written  from  time  to  time  as  occasion 
offered.  At  that  time  he  was  with  Admiral  Sir  Edward  Hawkc, 
whose  health,  gentlemen,  we  will  drink." 
.  They  did  so.  The  admiral  proceeded,  with  the  deliberation 
which  belongs  to  one-armed  men,  to  open  the  letter,  and  after 
calling  for  a  candle,  to  read  it. 

"  '  November  22, 1*759.' — The  boy  writes,  gentlemen,  as  I  said 
before,  from  aboard  the  frigate  Sapphire,  Captain  Strachan,  then 
forming  part  of  Commodore  Duff's  squadron,  and  of  Sir  Ed- 
ward Hawke's  fleet,  blockading  the  port  of  Brest.  It  is  his 
account  of  the  action,  whereof  intelligence  reached  the  admir- 
alty six  months  ago.  Humph  !  At  the  beginning  the  boy  pre- 
sents his  duty  and  respect,  which  is  as  it  should  be.  He  is 
well,  and  without  a  scratch.  But  the  news  is  six  months  old, 
and  of  the  stalest.  Yet  it  is  welcome.  Now  listen. 

" '  I  wrote  to  you  last  when  we  were  driven  by  stress  of 
weather  to  raise  the  blockade  of  Brest,  and  put  in  at  Torbay.' 
— He  did,  gentlemen,  and  you  heard  his  letter  read — '  I  hope 
my  letter  came  to  hand.' — It  did. — '  By  stress  of  weather  to 
raise  the  blockade  of  Brest.' — This  letter-reading  is  tedious 
work  ?'  "  The  admiral  took  another  drink  of  punch,  and  pro- 
ceeded, folding  the  letter  so  as  to  catch  the  light,  and  reading 
very  slowly.  "  *  When  the  gale  abated  we  put  to  sea  again,  but 


258  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

found  that  the  Frenchman  had  slipped  his  cables  and  was  off. 
'Twas  a  fisherman  of  Beer,  a  little  village  on  the  Devonshire 
coast,  who  saw  the  French  fleet  under  full  sail,  and  brought 
the  news.  We  found  out  afterwards  there  were  twenty  sail 
of  the  line  and  five  frigates  that  sailed  out  of  Brest,  being 
bound,  as  was  conjectured,  for  Quiberon  Bay.  But  this  we 
could  not  rightly  tell.  However,  we  crowded  sail  and  after 
them,  the  wind  blowing  fresh,  the  water  lumpy,  and  the  weath- 
er thick,  so  that  we  made  a  poor  reckoning,  and  the  fleet  was 
much  scattered.  However,  on  the  sixth  day,  being  the  morn- 
ing of  the  20th,  the  signal  was  hoisted  of  the  enemy's  fleet,  and 
the  admiral  gave  his  signal  to  close  up  for  action.  Well,  there 
they  were  in  full  sight,  but  apparently  with  mighty  little  stom- 
ach for  the  fight ;  and  instead  of  shortening  sail  and  accommo- 
dating us  like  gentlemen,  they  scudded  before  us.  However, 
towards  eight  bells,  when  the  men  had  taken  their  dinners  and 
their  rum,  and  were  in  good  fighting  trim,  and  ready  to  meet 
the  devil  himself  on  his  three-decker' — 'tis  a  deuce  of  a  boy, 
gentlemen — *  the  Warspite  and  the  Devastation  had  the  good- 
luck  to  come  up  first  with  the  French  rear,  and  the  action  be- 
gan. Very  soon  we  all  drew  up,  and  pounded  away.  As  for 
the  Sapphire,  we,  with  the  Resolution,  74,  were  speedily  engaged 
with  the  Formidable,  80,  Rear-Admiral  Verger ;  and  a  very  brisk 
engagement  it  was,  the  Frenchman  being  full  of  spirit.  But 
he  had  the  sense  to  strike  after  three  hours  of  it,  and  after  los- 
ing two  hundred  men  killed  and  wounded.  There  was  a  very 
good  account  made  of  the  other  ships,  though  not  without  mis- 
fortunes on  our  part.  The  Thesee,  74,  thinking  to  fight  her 
lower-deck  guns,  shipped  a  heavy  sea,  and  foundered,  with  all 
her  crew.  She  would  have  made  a  splendid  prize  indeed,  and 
a  magnificent  addition  to  his  majesty's  fleet.  But  it  was  not  to 
be.' — The  decrees  of  Providence,  gentlemen,"  said  the  admiral, 
"  are  not  to  be  questioned  or  examined.  But  it  passes  human 
understanding  to  see  the  sense  of  sinking  the  Thesee  instead  of 
letting  her  become  a  prize  and  an  ornament  to  King  George's 
navy,  and  useful  for  the  cause  of  justice."  Then  he  continued 
reading :  "  '  The  French  ship  Superbe,  70,  also  capsized ' — dear, 
dear,  gentlemen  !  another  loss  to  us — *  and  went  down,  I  think 
from  the  same  cause.  So  here  were  two  good  ships  thrown 
away,  as  one  may  say,  by  lubberly  handling.  We  had  bad  luck 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  259 

with  two  more  noble  ships :  one  of  them,  Heros,  as  beautiful  a 
74  as  you  ever  clapped  eyes  on,  struck ;  but  the  waves  were, 
unluckily,  running  too  high  for  a  boat  to  be  lowered,  and  in 
the  night  she  ran  aground.  So  did  the  Soleil-Royal,  80 ;  and 
next  day  we  had  to  set  fire  to  them,  though  it  was  enough  to 
bring  tears  to  the  most  hard-hearted  for  thinking  how  they 
would  have  looked  sailing  up  the  Solent,  the  union-jack  at  the 
stern,  above  the  great  white  royal.  Our  misfortunes  did  not 
end  here ;  for  H.  M.  S.  Resolution  unfortunately  went  ashore 
too,  and  now  lays  a  total  wreck,  and  all  her  crew  drowned.  The 
Essex  also  went  ashore  and  is  lost,  but  her  crew  saved.  As  for 
us,  it  was  stand  by,  load,  and  fire  for  nearly  three  hours,  but 
only  two  officers  killed  and  three  wounded,  with  twenty  men 
killed  and  thirty  wounded.  I  think  the  Mounseers,  who  were 
safe  within  the  bar  of  the  river,  will  stay  there  so  long  as  we 
are  in  sight.  For  though  they  pounded  us,  we've  mauled 
them,  as  I  hope  you  will  allow.  'Tis  thought  that  we  may  be 
despatched  in  search  of  Thurot's  squadron.  So  no  more  at 
present,  from  your  obedient  and  humble  JOHN  EASTERBROOK.' 
Well,  gentlemen,  this  is  my  letter,  and  what  do  you  think  of 
it?" 

"  Always  without  a  scratch,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  Well,  the 
lad  is  as  lucky  as  he  is  brave.  Every  bullet  has  its  billet.  Pray 
that  the  bullet  is  not  yet  cast  which  will  find  its  billet  in  Jack ! 
Admiral,  let  us  drink  the  health  of  this  gallant  lad." 

And  then  they  fell  to  talking  of  Jack's  future,  and  how  they 
should  all  live  to  see  him  an  admiral  and  a  knight,  and  in  com- 
mand of  a  fleet,  and  achieving  some  splendid  victory  over  the 
French.  But  Mr.  Brinjes  checked  them,  because,  he  said,  that 
to  anticipate  great  fortune  is,  as  the  negroes  of  the  Gold  Coast 
know  full  well,  to  draw  down  great  disaster.  But  still  they 
talked  of  the  brave  boy  who  had  grown  up  among  them,  and 
was  now  doing  his  duty  like  a  man. 

Now,  in  the  midst  of  this  discourse,  the  landlord  ran  into  the 
room,  crying,  "  Admiral  and  gentlemen,  here  comes  a  French 
prize  up  the  river  ?"  And  all,  leaving  their  pipes  and  punch, 
hurried  forth  into  the  garden. 

There  is  no  more  gallant  sight  than  the  arrival  of  a  prize,  es- 
pecially when,  as  then  happened,  she  comes  up  the  river  at  the 
sunset  of  a  glorious  summer  day,  when  the  yellow  light  falls 


260  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

upon  her  sails  and  colors  every  rope  of  her  rigging,  and  when, 
as  then  happened,  she  bears  about  her  all  the  marks  of  a  long 
and  terrible  battle — her  bulwarks  broken  away,  her  mainmast 
gone,  great  rents  and  holes  in  her  side,  her  sails  shattered,  and 
even  the  beautiful  carved  group  which  once  served  for  a  figure- 
head, such  as  the  French  love,  broken  and  mutilated. 

"A  French  prize,  truly,  gentlemen,"  said  the  admiral. 
"  There  is  a  French  cut  about  her  lines — and  look !  there  is 
the  white  flag  with  the  union-jack  above." 

She  came  up  Greenwich  Reach,  her  sails  bent,  slowly,  as  if 
she  was  ashamed  of  being  seen  a  prisoner  in  an  English  port. 
At  her  stern  floated  the  flag  of  the  French  navy,  the  great  white 
flag  with  the  royal  arms  in  gold.  But  above  this  flag  there 
floated  the  union-jack.  And  every  gentleman  in  the  company 
tossed  his  hat  and  shouted  at  the  sight. 

"Landlord,"  said  the  admiral,  "fetch  me  your  glass,  and 
quick.  The  evening  falls  apace." 

The  landlord  brought  a  sea  telescope. 

"  She's  a  58-gun  ship,  gentlemen.  There  has  been  warm 
work.  Mainmast  gone  ;  to'gallant  mizzen  carried  away ;  bows 
smashed ;  rigging  cut  to  pieces.  Seems  hardly  worth  the 
trouble  of  bringing  up  the  Channel.  But" — here  he  wiped 
the  glass  with  his  coat  sleeve,  and  applied  it  more  curiously — 
"  who  is  that  upon  the  quarter-deck  ?  Gentlemen — gentlemen 
all — it  is — it  is — it  is  none  other  than  Jack  Easterbrook  him- 
self in  command !  Damn  that  boy  for  luck !  Cud  jo,  ye  lubber, 
bring  me  my  stick :  Gentlemen,  we  will  all  hasten  to  the  yard, 
and  board  the  ship  as  soon  as  she  drops  her  bower.  Landlord, 
more  punch  !  Jack's  home  again,  and  in  command  of  a  prize  ! 
And,  landlord,  if  I  find  my  negroes  sober  when  I  come  back, 
gad !  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body  !" 

In  this  triumphant  way  did  Jack  come  home,  in  charge  of  a 
splendid  frigate,  the  Calypso,  taken  after  as  obstinate  an  action 
as  one  may  desire  or  expect,  by  the  Sapphire,  in  the  chops  of 
the  Channel,  and  sent  to  Deptford  under  command  of  Lieuten- 
ant John  Easterbrook,  to  be  repaired  and  added  to  his  majesty's 
navy. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  261 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HOW    BESS    LISTENED    FOR    HIS    STEP. 

IT  was  not  until  nearly  midnight  that  Mr.  Brinjes  came  home 
— a  late  hour  even  in  London,  where  they  turn  night  into  day  ; 
but  at  Deptford  there  is  not  so  much  as  a  single  drinking-house 
open  at  that  hour,  and  every  one,  rogues  and  honest  men,  the 
virtuous  and  the  abandoned,  are  all  alike  in  bed  and  asleep. 
The  moon  was  full,  and  the  street  was  as  light  as  day.  Over 
the  penman's  shop  the  lattice  window  was  partly  open. 

"  It  is  Bess's  room,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  She  is  asleep,  and 
dreaming  of  her  lieutenant.  And  he  hath  forgotten  her.  'Tis 
pity  she  had  not  listened  to  Aaron's  voice.  He  hath  surely 
forgotten  her,  seeing  that  he  hath  well-nigh  forgotten  me,  and 
asked  no  questions  at  all  concerning  her.  Sleep  on,  Bess  ;  sleep 
on,  my  girl.  To-morrow  thou  wilt  not  sleep  at  all ;  and  the 
next  day,  or  the  next,  will  come  the  whirlwind !  Perhaps  the 
sight  of  thy  charms — but  I  know  not — I  know  not.  Our  hon- 
est lad  is  changed." 

He  opened  the  door  of  his  shop,  and  went  into  his  own 
den. 

At  nine  of  the  clock  or  thereabouts,  when  the  early  chins  had 
been  shaved,  and  the  wigs  dressed  and  sent  round  to  the  gen- 
tlemen, Mr.  Peter  Skipworth,  the  barber,  found  time  to  run 
across  the  street  to  his  gossip  and  neighbor,  the  penman. 

"  Great  news,  Mr.  Westmoreland !"  he  cried.  "  Great  news 
for  Deptford !" 

"  Why  ?"  asked  the  penman.  "  Is  another  czar  coming 
here  ?" 

"  No,  no.     But  the  lieutenant  has  come  home." 

"  Lieutenant  Easterbrook  ?" 

"  What  other  ?  He  came  up  the  river  last  night,  in  command 
— think  of  that !  the  lieutenant  in  command  ! — of  a  prize  sent 
here  to  be  repaired  and  added  to  his  majesty's  navy.  The  ad- 
miral ordered  his  negroes  to  get  drunk,  so  great  was  the  wor- 


262  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

thy  gentleman's  joy;  and  now  they  lie  like  hogs  at  the  Sir 
John  Falstaff,  and  cannot  yet  be  awakened,  though  'tis  nigh 
twelve  hours  since  they  rolled  over." 

"  Lieutenant  Easterbrook,  who  once  was  Jack,  whom  I  taught 
the  elements  of  navigation  —  he  hath  returned  ?"  Mr.  West- 
moreland was  slow  of  catching  news,  being  always  wrapped  in 
the  study  of  mathematics. 

Bess  stopped  her  work  at  the  first  mention  of  his  name,  and 
listened,  her  heart  beating,  and  her  cheek  now  flushed,  now 
pale.  Oh  !  he  was  come  home  again  ! 

"  We  have  not  yet  seen  him,"  the  barber  continued,  "  though 
I  expect  he  will  come  to  have  his  hair  dressed  and  his  chin 
shaven.  None  other  hand  but  mine  shall  touch  them,  I  promise 
you.  The  landlord  of  the  Sir  John  Falstaff  says  that  a  more 
gallant  gentleman  he  hath  never  set  eyes  upon." 

"  Ha !"  said  Mr.  Westmoreland.  "  That  the  lieutenant  is  safe 
and  sound,  I  rejoice.  But  the  brave  boy  who  was  so  good  at 
his  figures,  he,  neighbor,  will  no  more  return  to  us.  He  is  gone, 
and  will  never  come  back  again.  Where  is  he  now — that  boy  ? 
Where  are  now  all  the  boys  who  have  since  grown  into  men? 
What  has  become  of  them  ?  I  doubt  he  will  forget  his  humble 
friends  and  well-wishers."  The  barber  ran  back  to  his  own 
shop.  "  Dost  remember  the  lieutenant,  Bess  ?" 

But  Bess  made  no  reply.  He  was  come  back — her  splendid 
lover !  How  could  she  answer  her  father's  prattle,  or  think 
about  anything  but  Jack  and  love  ?  Already  she  felt  his  arms 
about  her  neck,  and  his  kisses  on  her  cheek ;  and  she  was  suf- 
fused with  blushes  and  the  glow  of  happiness. 

She  would  not,  she  thought,  betray  her  eagerness  and  her 
joy.  Therefore  she  went  about  her  household  work  as  usual, 
yet  with  a  beating  of  her  heart  and  expectancy,  as  if  he  might 
send  the  apothecary's  assistant  for  her  at  any  moment.  When 
all  was  done,  and  the  whole  house  as  neat  and  clean  as  any 
lady's  tea-table,  Bess  went  up-stairs  to  her  bedroom,  and  began 
to  prepare  for  her  sweetheart,  her  heart  filled  with  gladness  and 
pride  that  he  was  come  home  again  in  a  manner  so  glorious ; 
and  with  terror,  also,  lest  she  might  have  lost  some  of  her 
charms.  She  looked  in  her  glass.  Nay,  she  was  more  beau- 
tiful, she  saw  plainly,  than  when  he  left  her  nigh  upon  three 
years  ago  :  her  eyes  were  brighter,  her  figure  fuller,  her  lips 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          263 

ruddier,  her  skin  whiter,  her  cheeks  rosier.  If  Jack  loved  her 
for  her  beauty,  he  must  needs,  she  knew,  and  smiled  at  the 
pleasing  thought,  love  her  now  much  more.  Then  she  drew 
his  letter  from  her  bosom,  where  it  lay  wrapped  in  its  silken 
bag,  and  read  it  all  over  again,  knowing  the  words  by  heart. 
"  There  is  not,"  it  said,  "  in  all  the  world  a  more  beautiful  girl 
than  my  Bess,  nor  a  fonder  lover  than  her  Jack." 

She  put  on  her  finest  and  best — with  the  coral  beads  which 
Jack  had  given  her  to  hang  round  her  neck,  and  the  ribbons — 
also  his  gift — would  he  remember  them  as  well  ?  She  dressed 
her  hair  in  the  way  he  used  to  love,  and  then,  when  all  was 
ready,  she  stole  down  the  stairs,  and  so  out  by  the  back  way  to 
the  apothecary's  parlor,  that  bower  of  love,  though  it  was  not 
also  a  bower  of  roses  and  fragrant  flowers. 

The  room  was  empty.  In  the  shop  sat  Mr.  Brinjes,  in  his 
place,  the  great  book  before  him ;  the  assistant,  James  Hadlow, 
stood  at  the  counter  rolling  and  mixing,  and  the  shop  was  filled 
with  women  who  had  brought  sick  children. 

"  Mr.  Brinjes,"  cried  Bess. 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  girl,"  he  replied. 

"  He  has  come  home  !"  she  cried,  heedless  now  of  the  women 
and  their  gossip. 

"  Very  like— very  like — so  they  tell  me." 

"  So  they  tell  me  !"  she  echoed,  laughing.  "  As  if  it  mat- 
tered nothing.  Yet  he  will  but  shake  hands  with  the  admiral 
and  come  here.  *  So  they  tell  me,'  he  says." 

"  I  come,  Bess,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  sadly ;  "  I  come 
in  a  few  minutes.  Now,  you  women  who  have  had  your  an- 
swer and  your  physic,  take  your  brats  away.  This  morning  I 
am  benevolently  disposed,  and  will  cure  them  all.  Go  away, 
therefore,  and  prate  no  more.  I  come  in  a  few  minutes,  Bess." 

So  she  waited,  glowing  with  the  anticipation  of  her  lover's 
welcome,  her  eyes  soft  and  humid,  her  bosom  heaving ;  and 
what  with  the  tumult  of  her  soul  and  her  finery — for,  as  I  have 
said,  she  had  put  on  her  coral  and  her  ribbons — and  all  his  gifts, 
looking  truly  a  most  beautiful  creature.  At  half-past  twelve 
Mr.  Brinjes  closed  his  great  book,  descended  from  his  stool,  and 
came  into  the  parlor. 

"  I  have  seen  him,  Bess,"  he  said.     "  I  saw  him  last  night." 

"Oh  I  you  have  seen  him,  and  you  did  not  wake  me  up  to 


264  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

tell  me.  You  have  spoken  to  him.  What  did  he  say?  How 
doth  he  look  ?  What  did  he  ask  about  me  ?  What  messages 
did  he  send  ?  And  is  he  wounded  ?  I§  he  safe  and  well  ? 
Oh !  but  he  will  be  here  directly.  Even  now  his  step  may  be 
in  the  street.  Listen  ! — no — not  yet — he  will  come  to  tell  me  ! 
Why,  you  tell  me  nothing.  Once  you  said  that  my  Jack  might 
forget  me.  I  will  not  tell  him  that,  Mr.  Brinjes,  because  he  is 
masterful,  and  I  would  not  anger  him  against  you.  Why,  you 
tell  me  nothing.  I  have  put  on  all  the  things  he  gave  me. 
Am  I  looking  well  ?  Do  you  think  he  will  find  me  changed  ?" 

"  For  your  questions,  Bess,  he  looks  strong  and  well,  though 
somewhat  changed  in  manner,  and  colder  than  of  old ;  and  to 
some  of  us  he  might  have  shown  more  civility.  For  me,  I  com- 
plain not,  though  he  gave  me  but  a  cold  hand ;  but  Mr.  Shel- 
vocke  may  justly  complain,  and  Mr.  Underbill — though  one, 
truly,  was  but  a  supercargo,  and  the  other  but  the  purser." 

"  Jack  can  never  forget  his  old  friends,"  said  Bess,  "  any 
more  than  he  can  forget  his  old  love.  But  he  is  now  in  com- 
mand of  a  prize." 

"  Bess,  my  girl,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  very  earnestly,  "  don't  build 
hopes  on  the  promise  of  a  sailor.  My  dear,  I  know  the  breed, 
all  my  life,  being  now  past  fourscore  and  ten.  I  have  lived 
among  sailors.  I  tell  thee,  child,  I  know  them.  With  them, 
it  is  out  of  sight  out  of  mind.  When  a  man  goes  fighting, 
hath  he  room  in  his  mind  for  a  woman?  And  the  more  a 
woman  loves  a  sailor,  the  less  he  loves  her.  If  he  hath  for- 
gotten thee,  my  dear,  let  him  go  without  a  tear  or  a  sigh,  for 
there  are  plenty  other  men  in  Deptford  who  would  gladly  pos- 
sess thy  charms." 

"  Stop  !"  she  cried,  flying  out,  suddenly.  "  Why,  you  are 
talking  like  a  mad  thing  !  You  don't  know  my  Jack.  How 
should  you  know  him?  How  should  you  know  any  men  ex- 
cept the  pirates,  your  old  friends,  and  the  rough  tarpaulins  who 
come  here  to  be  healed  ?  Who  are  you,  a  little  common  apothe- 
cary, to  talk  of  men  like  the  lieutenant  ?  How  are  you  to  know 
the  ways  of  the  king's  officers  ?  Why,  if  you  have  been  to  sea 
in  a  king's  ship,  'twas  only  to  mess  with  the  midshipmen  and 
the  purser's  mate." 

"  Well,  Bess,  well,"  he  replied,  not  angry,  but  bearing  the 
attack  with  meekness.  "  That  shall  be  as  you  please.  If  your 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  265 

man  is  constant,  he  will  seek  thee  here,  in  the  old  place.  If  ho 
is  not,  we  will,  I  say,  be  reasonable,  and  expect  no  better  than 
others  receive." 

"  Oh  !  If  you  were  a  young  man — a  man  like  Aaron,"  cried 
Bess,  "  Jack  should  beat  you  to  a  jelly  for  this." 

"  Ay,  ay — very  like,  very  like.  You  shall  beat  me  if  you 
like,  my  girl.  Bess,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  looking  her  earnestly  in 
the  face, "  if  it  would  give  you  any  pleasure,  and  bring  your 
lover  back,  you  should  beat  me  yourself  till  you  could  lay  on 
no  longer." 

"  My  lover  will  come  back  to  me,"  she  replied.  "  He  will  be 
here  this  morning  or  this  afternoon.  Of  course  he  will  come 
as  soon  as  he  can." 

"Perhaps.  But  he  is  changed.  He  sat  among  the  gentle- 
men of  the  club  last  night,  but  it  was  to  please  the  admiral,  not 
himself.  He  wanted  none  of  our  company.  I  sat  beside  him, 
but  he  asked  me  no  question  at  all.  What ! — should  I  not 
know  the  lover's  eyes  ?  Bess,  he  hath  forgotten  thee." 

"  You  are  a  liar !"  she  replied,  springing  to  her  feet  as  if  she 
would  take  him  at  his  word  and  lay  on  till  she  could  lay  on  no 
longer.  "You  say  this  because  you  are  old  and  ill-tempered, 
and  envious  of  younger  people's  happiness.  Who  are  you  that 
Jack  should  remember  you  ?  Who  but  a  common  sailors' 
apothecary — and  he  a  lieutenant  in  command  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  girl ;  pay  it  out.  I  am  a  sailors'  apothecary. 
I  am  old  and  envious.  Pay  it  out.  I  value  not  thy  words — 
no,  not  even  a  rope's  yarn — because,  Bess,  I  love  thee,  my  dear, 
and. I  would  not  see  thee  unhappy  about  any  man.  What  is  a 
man  worth  beside  a  lovely  woman  ?  If  I  were  a  woman,  would 
I  throw  my  love  away  upon  a  single  man  ?  Two  years  and 
more  hast  thou  wasted  upon  this  fine  lover,  who,  when  he 
comes  back,  hath  never  a  word  to  ask — not  even, 4  How  fares 
my  Bess  ?' " 

"  Why,"  said  Bess,  "  how  could  he  ask  concerning  me  be- 
fore those  gentlemen  ?  Say  no  more,  Mr.  Brinjes,  for  I  would 
not  be  angered  and  show  a  red  cheek  when  he  comes.  You 
know  that  I  am  easily  put  out.  Besides,  you  are  only  laugh- 
ing at  me,  and  I  am  a  fool  to  fly  out.  Jack  will  come  to  me 
as  soon  as  he  can  leave  his  ship.  Very  likely  he  will  not  get 
away  until  the  evening." 
12 


266  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

So  she  sat  down  on  the  window-seat,  and  recovered  her  spirits, 
feeling  no  doubt  at  all,  nor  any  misgivings,  and  began  talking 
merrily  of  what  she  would  say  when  he  came,  and  what  he 
would  say  to  her,  and  how  they  would  brew  him  a  glass  of 
punch  such  as  he  loved,  before  they  suffered  him  to  say  a  word 
of  his  own  adventures,  and  how  she  would  fill  for  him  a  pipe 
of  tobacco,  thinking — poor  wretch  ! — that  her  lover  was  un- 
changed not  only  in  his  affections,  but  also  in  his  manners. 

Then  Mr.  Brinjes  made  his  dinner ;  that  is  to  say,  he  fried 
his  beefsteak  and  onions,  and  presently  ate  them  up,  with  a 
tankard  of  black  beer.  After  dinner  he  took  a  glass  of  punch, 
filled  and  smoked  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  and  then,  rolling  himself 
in  his  pillows,  fell  fast  asleep,  as  was  his  wont. 

Bess  meantime,  her  wrath  subdued,  sat  in  the  window-scat, 
waiting.  But  the  step  she  looked  for  came  not. 

So  passed  the  afternoon. 

Towards  three  o'clock  Mr.  Westmoreland,  who  had  been  so 
much  occupied  with  his  work  that  he  forgot  his  dinner,  began 
to  feel  certain  pangs  in  the  internal  regions,  which  he  at  first 
attributed  to  colic,  and  blamed  himself  for  greediness  at  meals ; 
but  as  the  pain  increased  and  became  intolerable,  he  pushed 
away  his  papers  and  sat  up,  suddenly  remembering  that  he  had 
not  had  any  dinner  at  all,  and  that  these  were  pangs  of  hunger. 
Three  o'clock,  and  no  dinner !  Where  in  the  world  was  Bess  ? 

He  was  accustomed,  however,  to  small  consideration  from 
women,  and  proceeded  to  rummage  in  the  cupboard,  where  he 
found  some  cold  provisions,  off  which  he  made  a  very  good 
dinner.  Then,  as  the  day  was  fine  and  the  sun  shining,  he 
stood  in  the  doorway  enjoying  the  warmth. 

As  he  stood  there  he  saw,  marching  up  the  street,  no  other 
than  the  lieutenant  himself,  whom  he  recognized,  though  he 
was  greatly  changed,  having  now  not  only  filled  out  in  figure 
and  become  a  man,  who  when  last  seen  was  a  stripling,  but 
having  acquired  the  dignity  of  the  quarter-deck  and  the  assur- 
ance which  comes  of  exercising  authority. 

However  changed,  Jack  did  not  forget  his  old  friend. 

"  What !"  he  said,  "  Mr.  Westmoreland  !  Thou  art  well,  I 
hope,  my  friend  ?" 

"  I  am  better  than  I  deserve  to  be,  sir,  and  glad  to  see  your 
honor  safe  home  again." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  267 

"  Why,  Mr.  Westmoreland,  the  bullet  that  has  my  heart  for 
its  billet  hath  not  yet  found  me,  though  it  may  be  already  cast 
for  aught  I  know.  Thou  art  still  busied  with  logarithms  ?" 

"  By  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Westmoreland, 
"  I  have  had  much  to  do,  both  in  the  advancement  of  fine  pen- 
manship and  the  calculation  of  the  logarithmic  tables." 

Jack  nodded  and  passed  on ;  but  he  remembered  something 
and  laughed.  Then  he  hesitated,  and  looked  back  into  the 
penman's  room. 

"  You  had  a  daughter,  Mr.  Westmoreland — Bess,  her  name 
was,  and  a  comely  girl.  I  hope  she  is  well.  But  I  see  her  not 
in  the  shop.  No  doubt  she  is  married  long  ago,  and  the  mother 
of  thumping  twins." 

He  laughed  and  nodded  and  went  on  his  way. 

"  My  daughter,  your  honor — "  Mr.  Westmoreland  began ;  but 
the  lieutenant  was  already  out  of  hearing. 

"  Now,"  said  the  penman,  "  saw  one  ever  a  better  heart  ?  He 
not  only  remembers  me,  which  is  natural,  seeing  that  I  was  his 
instructor,  but  he  remembers  my  girl  as  well.  Where  is  Bess  ? 
She  will  laugh  when  I  tell  her.  Mother  of  twins !  Ho  !  ho ! 
'  Thumping  twins  !'  he  said.  Bess  will  laugh." 

About  four  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Brinjes  woke  up,  and  slow- 
ly recovered  consciousness,  until  he  felt  strong  enough  to  take 
his  afternoon  punch ;  after  which  he  sat  up  and  became  brisk 
again,  looking  about  the  room,  and  remembering  all  that  had 
been  said. 

"  Bess,"  he  cried,  "  hath  your  lover  come  ?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Courage,  my  girl,  courage.  Perhaps  when  he  sees  thy 
comely  face  again  he  will  remember.  WThat !  To  be  loved 
by  such  a  girl  would  fire  an  Esquimau  or  a  Laplander.  Take 
courage,  therefore.  There  is  no  more  beautiful  woman  in  Dept- 
ford,  Bess.  Take  courage." 

"  1  am  waiting  for  my  sweetheart,"  she  replied,  coldly. 
"  Why  should  I  take  courage  ?  He  hath  been  delayed  by  his 
affairs.  He  will  come  presently." 

"  Bess,"  Mr.  Brinjes  whispered,  "  there  is  a  way  to  bring  him 
back." 

"  To  bring  him  back  ?  This  old  man  will  drive  me 
mad  !" 


268  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  There  is  a  way,  Bess.  The  old  negro  woman  gave  thee  a 
charm  to  keep  him  safe  from  shot  and  steel.  She  will  give 
thee  one,  if  I  compel  her,  to  bring  him  to  thy  knees.  Nay,  she 
will  not  at  thy  bidding.  And  for  why  ?  Because  she  wants 
Miss  Castilla  to  marry  the  lieutenant.  Yet  if  I  compel  her, 
she  will  make  thee  such  a  charm.  Then  he  must  needs  come 
straight  to  thee,  his  heart  mad  with  love,  though  a  hundred  fine 
ladies  tried  to  drag  him  back." 

"  I  know  not  what  you  mean." 

Mr.  Brinjes  took  up  his  famous  magic  stick,  the  stick  with 
the  skull  upon  it.  "  It  is  by  virtue  of  this  stick,  which  gives 
its  possessor,  she  believes,  greater  Obeah  wisdom  than  she  hath 
herself  attained  unto.  Wherefore  if  I  order  her  to  do  a  thing, 
she  cannot  choose  but  obey,  else  I  might  put  Obi  upon  her. 
She  hath  given  me  the  secrets  of  all  her  drugs,  by  means  of 
which,  if  I  live  long  enough,  I  may  find  out  the  greatest  secret 
of  all,  and  be  like  unto  the  immortal  angels.  She  shall  obey 
me  in  this  as  well,  Bess.  Say  but  the  word,  and  she  shall 
bring  him  back,  though  Castilla  die  for  love  of  the  handsome 
lieutenant." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Bess.     "  He  has  not  forgotten  me." 

"  Child,  I  know  that  he  has.  Why,  when  he  went  away,  if 
he  thought  of  you,  his  eyes  softened.  He  could  not  look  upon 
me  without  remembering  his  days  spent  in  this  room.  Yet  his 
eyes  softened  not.  Believe  me,  he  will  come  here  no  more. 
It  is  strange.  I  know  not  what  will  happen.  Sure  I  am  that 
I  shall  sail  once  more  upon  the  southern  seas,  with  Jack  upon 
the  quarter-deck.  A  dozen  times  or  more  have  I  inquired  of 
Philadelphy,  and  still  she  sees  a  ship  with  Jack — and  me — and 
you,  Bess — you.  Why,  I  am  ninety  years  of  age  and  more, 
girl.  Shall  I  get  that  charm  for  thee !  If  I  could  get  it  no 
other  way,  I  would  even  bribe  her  with  this  stick,  when  all  my 
Obi  leaves  me,  and  I  shall  cause  and  cure  diseases  no  better 
than  the  quacks  of  Horn  Fair  and  of  Bartholomew." 

But  Bess  shook  her  head. 

"  I  will  have  no  charm,"  she  said.  "  If  Jack  will  forget  me, 
let  him  forget  me.  But  he  has  got  my  name  tattooed  upon  his 
arm,  and  he  has  got  my  lock  tied  round  his  wrist.  If  these 
will  not  charm  him  back,  nothing  else  shall." 

So  she  fell  into  silence.     But  at  seven  in  the  evening,  when 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  269 

Mr.  Brinjcs  put  on  his  wig  and  coat  for  the  club,  she  arose  and 
went  home. 

"  Why,"  said  her  father,  "  where  hast  been  all  day,  girl  ? 
There  was  no  dinner.  Well,  it  matters  not,"  because  her  face 
warned  him  not  to  rebuke  her,  "  it  matters  not,  and,  indeed,  I 
found  enough  cold  bits  in  the  cupboard.  But,  Bess,  thou  hast 
missed  a  sight." 

"What  sight?" 

"  The  sight  of  a  gallant  gentleman.  I  have  seen  the  lieu- 
tenant. He  passed  by  this  way  to  the  admiral's.  'Tis  a  brave 
officer  now ;  no  taller,  perhaps,  than  when  he  left  us  last ;  but 
then  he  was  a  stripling,  and  now  he  is  well  filled  out,  and  set 
up  as  brave  and  comely  as  one  would  wish  to  set  eyes  upon." 

"  And  he  came  to  the  shop  to  see  me,  then  ?" 

"  You,  Bess  ?  Why  should  he  wish  to  see  you  ?  No,  no. 
A  gentleman  like  that  cannot  be  expected  to  remember  a  mere 
girl.  But  he  had  not  forgotten  me,  for  when  I  saw  him,  and 
took  off  my  cap  to  him,  he  stopped  and  kindly  asked  me  how 
I  fared.  His  honor  is  not  one  who  forgets  his  humble  friends." 

"  Did  he  ask  after  me  ?" 

"  He  did,  I  warrant.  He  said,  *  You  had  a  daughter,  Mr. 
Westmoreland.'  So  he  looked  into  the  room  as  if  he  would 
give  you  too  a  greeting ;  but  no  one  was  there.  So  he  said, 
1  But  she  is  married  long  ago,  I  dare  swear,  and  hath  thumping 
twins  by  this  time.'  '  Thumping  twins,'  he  said,  Bess.  His 
honor  was  always  a  merry  lad.  He  remembered  me  directly ; 
and  he  hath  not  even  forgotten  thee,  Bess.  Do  not  think  it." 

He  had  not,  indeed.  But  his  remembrance  was  worse  than 
his  forgetfulness.  Better  to  have  been  forgotten  than  to  be 
thus  remembered. 

Then  her  father  left  her  to  take  his  pipe  and  have  his  even- 
ing talk  with  his  cronies ;  and  Bess  was  left  alone  in  the  house. 
Just  so,  nearly  three  years  before,  she  had  been  left  sitting  by 
the  fire,  when  her  lover  came  to  her  and  embraced  her,  with 
words  which  he  had  now  forgotten  but  she  remembered  still ! 
Oh,  if  he  should  now,  as  then,  lift  the  latch,  and  find  her  there 
alone,  and  she  could  fall  upon  his  breast  and  tell  him  all  the 
things  in  her  heart ! 

She  listened  for  his  footstep.  Other  steps  passed  by  the 
house,  but  not  the  step  she  looked  for ;  and  then  her  father 


270  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

came  home,  cheerful  and  full  of  talk  about  the  gallant  deeds  of 
the  lieutenant,  and  she  must  needs  give  him  his  supper,  and  lis- 
ten and  make  reply. 

The  apothecary  was  right  when  he  said,  "  Sleep  on,  Bess, 
sleep  on.     Thou  wilt  sleep  but  little  to-morrow  night." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


OUR  lieutenant  was  engaged  all  the  morning  with  the  port 
admiral  and  with  the  navy  office,  but  in  the  after-part  of  the 
day  the  admiral  made  a  great  feast  for  him,  as  he  had  done  on 
his  last  return,  to  which  I  was  bidden  with  the  rest.  But  the 
change  which  I  perceived  in  him  greatly  surprised  me,  and  in- 
deed all  of  us.  For  the  young  sea-cub,  rude  in  speech  and 
careless  of  behavior,  was  quite  gone.  Behold  in  his  place  a 
gentleman  of  polite  manners,  and  as  careful  of  his  speech  as  if 
he  had  been  all  his  life  in  St.  James's  Street.  This  was  indeed 
astonishing. 

There  are,  it  is  certain,  too  many  captains  in  the  king's  ships 
who  have  never  known  better  company  than  they  find  in  a 
Portsmouth  tavern,  so  that  the  ridicule  which  has  been  lavished 
upon  naval  captains  is  not  undeserved;  there  are  also  ships 
which  are  no  better,  as  a  school  of  manners  for  the  young  of- 
ficers, than  Portsea  Hard,  so  that  the  lieutenants  and  midship- 
men in  such  vessels  hear  nothing  but  rough  language  with  pro- 
fane swearing,  and  even  at  the  captain's  table,  which  is  copied 
in  the  wardroom  and  the  gunroom,  find  the  manners  of  a  New- 
castle collier.  There  are  also  captains  who  should  never  have 
left  the  polite  part  of  town,  because  they  pine  continually  for 
the  pleasures  of  the  theatre  and  Ranelagh,  the  clubs  of  St. 
James's  Street,  Covent  Garden  suppers,  and  gambling-houses ; 
who  reek  of  bergamot,  and  appear  daily  on  the  quarter-deck 
dressed  as  if  for  the  park,  and  in  their  hair  not  a  curl  out  of 
place,  or  a  single  touch  of  pomatum  and  powder  abated.  These 
men  are  not  those  who  crowd  all  sail  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy, 
and  hasten  to  lay  yardarm  to  yardarm.  The  sailors  call  them 
Jacky  Fal-las,  and  respect  nothing  in  them  but  their  authority 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  2Yl 

over  the  cat-o'-nine-tails.  Other  captains  again  there  are  (tin- 
der one  of  them  it  was  Jack's  good-fortune  to  serve)  who  pos- 
sess such  manners,  and  in  their  cabins  exhibit  and  expect  such 
conversation  and  behavior,  as  one  finds  in  the  most  polite  as- 
sembly, yet  are  no  whit  behind  the  most  old-fashioned  sea-dog 
in  courage.  What  could  we  expect  of  Jack  when  he  came 
home  to  us,  after  four  years  spent  in  wandering  among  savages, 
and  in  a  French  prison  among  common  sailors,  but  that  he 
should  be  rude  and  rough  ?  What  else  could  we  expect,  after 
sailing  under  a  commanding  officer  of  good  birth  and  breeding, 
than  that  he  should  return  with  polished  manners  and  softened 
language  ? 

This  fact  explained  part  of  the  change  which  had  taken  place 
in  him.  But  it  did  not  explain  all,  for  Jack,  who  had  formerly 
avoided  the  society  of  ladies,  now  astonished  us  by  his  de- 
meanor towards  madam  and  Castilla,  especially  the  latter,  whose 
conversation  he  courted,  addressing  himself  to  her  continually, 
so  that  she  was  fain  to  blush  under  his  manifest  and  undis- 
guised admiration. 

This  would  not  have  been  wonderful  in  any  other  man,  be- 
cause eyes  of  heavenly  blue,  light  brown  curls,  delicate  features, 
a  lovely  shape,  and  the  sweetest  complexion  in  the  world  might 
well  call  forth  admiration.  But  Castilla  could  boast  the  same 
charms,  though  not  so  ripe,  three  years  before,  when  they  moved 
him  not  a  whit.  Rather  he  regarded  them  with  the  contempt 
of  one  who  has  only  eyes  for  the  darker  charms.  Alas !  the 
same  look  was  gathering  in  his  eyes — the  look  of  tenderness 
and  of  a  hungry  yearning — while  he  gazed  upon  Castilla  which 
had  wont  to  be  kindled  by  the  black  eyes  of  our  poor  Bess. 

"  Now,"  cried  the  admiral,  when  madam  retired  with  Cas- 
tilla, "  'fore  Gad !  we'll  make  a  night  of  it.  Clean  glasses,  ye 
black  devils,  and  brisk  about !  Jack,  I  hope  the  liquor  is  to 
your  liking.  I  love  the  Mediterranean,  for  my  own  part,  be- 
cause the  wine  is  cheap  and  strong  and  plenty.  Drink  about, 
gentlemen,  and  when  you  are  tired  of  the  port,  we  will  have 
in  the  punch.  Gentlemen,  let  us  drink  the  health  of  the  lieu- 
tenant !" 

So  the  bottle  began  to  fly,  and  the  company  presently  grew 
merry,  and  all  began  to  talk  together,  every  man  speaking  of  the 
glorious  actions  in  which  he  had  taken  part,  and,  as  is  natural 


272  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

when  the  heart  is  uplifted  with  generous  wine,  every  man 
thinking  that  the  victory  was  won  by  his  own  valor.  Thus  the 
admiral  related  how  he  had  planted  the  British  flag  on  the 
island  of  Tobago ;  and  before  he  had  finished  the  narrative 
Mr.  Shelvocke  interrupted  in  order  to  tell  the  company  that  it 
was  he  alone  who  had  with  his  own  hand  sacked  and  burned 
the  town  of  Payta,  and  it  was  he  who  boarded  the  Spanish 
ships  on  their  escape  from  Juan  Fernandez ;  next,  the  good 
old  admiral  struck  in  again  to  explain  who  it  was  that  had 
made  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel's  victories  possible.  Captain 
Mayne,  at  the  same  moment,  remembered  that  the  powerful 
assistance  he  had  lent  to  Admiral  Vernon  at  Portobello  had 
never  been  properly  set  forth  by  historians,  and  so  on.  But 
our  hero,  who  had  seen  already  more  engagements  than  any 
man  present,  though  he  was  not  yet  twenty-four,  spoke  little, 
and  I  observed,  which  was  indeed  remarkable  in  a  naval  officer, 
and  would  be,  in  this  drinking  age,  remarkable  in  any  man, 
that  he  did  not  drink  deep.  Presently,  when  the  others  were 
flushed  in  the  cheeks,  and  some  of  them  thick  of  speech — 
the  first  signs  of  drunkenness — Jack  rose,  saying,  "  By  your 
leave,  admiral,  I  will  join  the  ladies." 

.  "What?"  said  the  admiral.  "Desert  the  company?  Ex- 
change the  bottle  for  a  parcel  of  women  ?  For  shame,  Jack, 
for  shame !  The  punch  is  coming,  dear  lad :  sit  down — sit 
down." 

But  Jack  persisted,  and  I  rose  too. 

"  Go,  then  !"  the  admiral  roared,  with  a  great  oath.  "  Go, 
then,  for  a  brace  of  gulpins !" 

The  ladies,  who  expected  nothing  but  an  evening  to  them- 
selves, as  is  generally  their  lot  when  the  men  are  drinking 
together,  were  greatly  astonished  at  our  appearance. 

"  Indeed,  Jack,"  said  Castilla,  "  Luke,  we  know,  does  not 
disdain  a  dish  of  tea  with  us.  But  you — oh !  I  fear  you  will 
find  our  beverage  as  insipid  as  our  conversation." 

Formerly  Jack  would  have  replied  to  this  sally  that,  d'ye 
see,  Luke  was  a  grass-comber  and  a  land-swa-b,  but  that  for 
himself  there  was  no  tea  aboard  ship,  and  a  glass  of  punch  or 
a  bowl  of  flip  was  worth  all  the  tea  ever  brought  from  China — 
or  words  to  that  effect.  Now,  however,  he  laughed,  and  said, 
"  Nay,  Castilla,  was  I  ever  so  rude  as  to  find  your  conversation 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  273 

insipid  ?     As  for  your  tea,  it  will  certainly,  since  you  make  it, 
be  more  delicious  than  all  the  admiral's  port." 

At  this  she  blushed  again,  and  presently  made  the  tea  and 
gave  him  a  cup  with  her  own  hands,  hoping  it  was  sweetened 
to  his  liking ;  and  he  drank  it  as  if  he  were  accustomed  to  tak- 
ing it  every  day,  though  I  know  not  when  he  had  taken  tea, 
last.  He  would  not,  however,  drink  a  second  cup,  which 
shows  that  he  did  not  greatly  admire  its  taste.  Now  at  the 
Rainbow,  in  Fleet  Street,  I  have  seen  gentlemen  who  will  take 
their  six  or  seven  cups  of  tea  one  after  the  other  at  a  sitting. 
And  the  same  thing  may  be  seen  with  ladies  when  the  hissing 
urn  has  been  brought  in  and  the  tea  goes  round. 

Then  Castilla  asked  him  a  hundred  questions  about  his 
cruise  and  his  battles,  which  Jack  answered  modestly  and 
briefly,  while  still  in  his  eyes  I  marked  that  look  of  admi- 
ration— I  knew  it  well — growing  deeper  and  more  hungry,  and 
Castilla,  observing  it  too,  continually  blushed  and  stammered, 
and  yet  went  on  prattling,  as  if  his  looks  fascinated  her,  as 
they  say  that  in  some  countries  a  snake  will  so  charm  a  bird 
that  it  will  sit,  still  singing,  until  he  darts  upon  it  and  swallows 
it  up. 

After  this  he  asked  her  to  sing.  Her  voice  was  gentle  and 
sweet,  but  of  small  power,  and  in  the  old  days  it  had  no 
charms  for  him  compared  with  the  strong,  full  voice  which  was 
at  his  service  in  the  apothecary's  parlor.  But  she  complied, 
and  sang  all  the  songs  she  knew  in  succession. 

Jack  listened,  enthralled.  "  'Tis  well,"  he  said,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "  that  we  have  no  Castilla  on  board." 

"Why,  Jack?" 

"  Because  life  would  be  so  sweet  that  the  men  would  not 
fight,  for  fear  of  being  killed." 

"  Thank  you,  Jack,"  she  said.  "  I  never  expected  so  fine  a 
compliment  on  my  poor  singing." 

"  There  never  were  any  sirens  on  board  ship,"  I  said,  clum- 
sily. "  They  are  always  on  land,  and  sing  to  lure  poor  sailors 
to  destruction." 

"  Fie  for  shame,  Luke  !"  cried  Castilla.  "  That  was  not 
prettily  said.  Am  I  trying  to  lure  Jack  to  his  destruction, 
pray?" 

We  all  laughed ;  and  yet,  when  one  comes  to  think  of  that 
12* 


274  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

evening,  I  perceive  that  this  innocent  creature  was  actually  and 
unconsciously  playing  the  part  of  the  ancient  siren,  because 
she  certainly  lured  the  lieutenant  to  the  fate  that  awaited  him. 

Then  Jack  offered  to  sing,  somewhat  to  my  dismay,  because 
I  remembered  certain  songs  which  he  had  formerly  bawled  at 
the  Gun  Tavern  and  in  the  apothecary's  parlor.  However,  he 
now  sang,  his  voice  being  modulated  and  greatly  softened,  an 
old  sea-song,  with  a  burden  of  "  As  we  ride  on  the  tide  when 
the  stormy  winds  do  blow,"  very  movingly,  so  that  the  tears 
stood  in  Castilla's  eyes. 

We  heard,  in  the  next  room,  the  voices  of  the  admiral  and 
his  guests  growing  louder  and  faster,  and  conjectured  that  the 
evening  would  be  a  short  one.  This  speedily  proved  true,  and 
the  negroes  wheeled  every  man  home  to  his  own  house,  except 
the  admiral,  whom  they  carried  up-stairs.  As  for  us,  madam 
went  to  sleep  in  a  chair,  and  we  sat  down  to  a  game  of  Ombre, 
Jack  showing  himself  as  pleased  with  the  simple  game  we 
played  as  he  had  been  with  the  tea  and  the  singing.  At  the 
same  time  his  eyes  wandered  from  his  cards  to  Castilla's  face, 
and  he  played  his  cards  badly,  losing  every  game. 

"  I  cannot  remember,  Jack,"  said  Castilla,  when  we  finished, 
"that  you  were  fond  of  cards  when  last  you  were  at  home, 
unless  it  were  All-fours." 

"  He  also  played,"  I  said,  "  Cribbage,  Put,  Laugh-and-lie- 
down,  and  Snip-snap-snorum  " — all  of  these  being  games  over 
which,  when  played  with  Bess,  he  had  shown  great  interest. 

"  Nay,"  he  replied,  earnestly,  "  I  entreat  you,  Castilla,  to  for- 
get wholly  what  manner  of  man  that  was  who  came  home  to 
you  in  rags.  Think  that  he  had  been  for  two  years  among  the 
midshipmen,  and  then  for  three  years  among  the  savages  and 
the  Spaniards,  and  then  was  thrown  into  a  French  prison  to 
mess  with  common  sailors.  If  you  do  not  forget  that  rude 
savage,  forgive  him,  and  understand  that  he  has  gone,  and  will 
no  more  be  seen.  As  for  the  things  he  did,  I  look  upon  them 
with  wonder.  Why,  if  I  remember  aright,  Luke,  that  sea- 
swab  did  not  disdain  to  fight  a  smuggler  fellow  at  Horn  Fair 
before  all  his  friends." 

"  He  did  not,  Jack,"  I  said.     "  But  we  loved  the  sea-swab." 

"  We  should  have  loved  him  better,  Luke,"  said  Castilla, 
gently, "  if  he  had  given  more  of  his  company  to  ourselves 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  275 

and  less  to  the  apothecary.  I  know  how  his  afternoons  were 
spent,  sir;"  she  nodded  and  laughed,  and  he  changed  color 
and  started ;  but  of  course  Castilla  knew  nothing  about  Bess. 

"He  is  gone,"  Jack  repeated,  " and  I  hope  that  a  better 
man  has  taken  his  place.  As  for  your  society,  Castilla,  he 
must  be  an  insensate  wretch  indeed  who  would  not  find  him- 
self happy  when  you  are  present." 

"  Thank  you,  Jack ;"  she  made  him  a  courtesy  and  smiled, 
yet  blushed  a  little.  "  I  perceive  that  another  man  indeed  has 
taken  his  place.  Poor  honest  Jack !  He  spoke  his  mind,  and 
loved  not  girls.  Yet  we  loved  him — perhaps  ;"  she  looked  up 
at  him,  but  dropped  her  eyes  beneath  his  ardent  gaze.  "  Per- 
haps, before  long — " 

"  Perhaps,  Castilla,"  said  Jack,  earnestly,  "  you  may  be  able 
to  love  the  new  man  better  than  the  old." 

"  It  is  late,"  she  said,  blushing  again.  "  Good-night,  Jack." 
She  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  held  for  a  moment,  looking 
down  upon  the  pretty,  slender  creature  with  eyes  full  of  love. 
And  then  she  left  us,  and  went  to  bed. 

I  declare  solemnly  that  I  had  loved  Castilla  ever  since  I 
could  talk;  yet  in  one  evening  this  sailor  made  fiercer  and 
more  determined  love  to  her  than  I  in  all  those  years.  In- 
deed, as  she  hath  since  confessed  to  me,  she  knew  not,  and  did 
not  even  so  much  as  suspect,  that  I  loved  her. 

"  Come  into  the  open,  dear  lad,"  said  Jack,  presently,  after  a 
profound  sigh.  "  Let  us  go  into  the  garden  and  talk." 

In  the  garden,  what  with  the  twilight  of  the  season  and  the 
full  moon,  it  was  as  bright  as  day,  though  eleven  o'clock  was 
striking  by  St.  Nicholas's  Church  clock.  We  walked  upon  the 
trim  bowling-green,  and  talked. 

"  There  is  her  bedroom,"  said  Jack,  looking  at  the  light  in 
Castilla's  chamber.  "  See !  she  has  put  out  the  candle.  She 
is  lying  down  to  sleep.  What — oh,  lad ! — what  can  a  creat- 
ure like  that,  so  delicate  and  so  fragile,  think  of  such  rough, 
coarse  animals  as  ourselves  ?  Do  you  think  that  she  can  ever 
forget  or  forgive  the  rude  things  I  have  said  to  her  ?  Do  you 
think  she  remembers  them,  and  would  pay  them  back  ?" 

"  Jack,  Castilla  has  nothing  to  remember  or  to  forgive.  Do 
you  think  she  harbors  resentment  for  the  little  rubs  of  her 
childhood?" 


276  THE    WORLD    WENT   VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  She  is  all  goodness,  Luke ;  of  that  I  am  convinced.  She 
is  as  good  as  she  is  truly  beautiful ;  of  that  I  need  not  to  be 
told.  As  for  her  beauty,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  more 
lovely  than  the  English  blue  eye  and  fair  hair.  It  is  by 
special  Providence,  I  suppose,  and  to  reward  us  for  hating  the 
pope  and  the  French,  that  they  are  made  as  good  as  they  are 
beautiful." 

"  Did  you  always  prefer  fair  hair  to  dark,  Jack  ?"  I  asked,  in 
wonder  that  a  man  should  have  so  changed,  and  should  have 
forgotten  so  much. 

"  As  for  what  I  used  to  say  and  think,  dear  lad,  let  that 
never  be  mentioned  between  us.  Why,  it  shames  me  to  think 
of  what  an  unmannerly  cur  I  must  have  seemed  to  all  in  those 
days.  Talk  not  of  them,  Luke,  my  lad." 

Poor  Bess !  She  was  included  among  the  things  belonging 
to  those  days.  I  dared  not  question  him  further. 

"  It  is  our  unhappiness,"  he  went  on,  "  that  though  we 
would  willingly  remain  on  shore,  honor  and  our  own  interest 
call  us  to  go  to  sea  again.  Therefore  I  know  not  how  far  a 
man  who  is  at  present  only  a  lieutenant  might  hope  to  win  so 
fair  a  prize  as  Castilla.  To  be  sure,  she  is  a  sailor's  daughter, 
and  knows  what  she  would  expect  as  a  sailor's  wife.  Yet  to 
leave  her  alone,  and  without  protection !  She  would  have 
you,  to  be  sure,  for  her  protector  while  I  am  gone." 

Heavens !  It  was  not  yet  three  years  since  he  had  solemnly 
committed  another  woman  to  my  care.  Had  he  quite  for- 
gotten that? 

"  In  a  word,  Jack,"  I  said,  with  bitterness  in  my  heart,  "  you 
have  seen  Castilla,  since  your  return,  but  three  or  four  hours, 
and  you  are  already  in  love  with  her." 

"  That  is  true,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  in  love  with  her.  Why," 
he  laughed,  "  you  are  thinking,  I  dare  swear,  of  three  years 
ago,  when  you  caught  me  in  a  certain  summer-house,  kissing 
another  girl." 

I  acknowledged  that  I  remembered  the  fact.  "Is  she,"  I 
asked,  "  quite  forgotten  ?  Yet  you  swore  that  you  loved  her, 
and  vowed  constancy." 

"  Well,  my  lad,  every  sailor  is  allowed  to  be  in  love  as  often 
as  he  comes  ashore,  for  that  matter.  And  as  for  the  girl — 
what  was  her  name  ? — I  believe  I  did  make  love  to  her  for  a 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          277 

while.  And  now  I  hear  that  she  is  married,  and  already  the 
mother  of  twins." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?" 

"  Her  father,  the  penman." 

"  But  it  is  not  true,  Jack.  How  could  he  have  told  you 
such  a  thing  ?  Bess  hath  never  forgotten  you." 

"  True  or  not  true,  I  care  not  a  rope's-end.  I  am  in  love 
with  Castilla.  Already,  you  say  ?  Why,  a  man  who  did  not 
fall  in  love  with  this  sweet  creature  at  the  very  first  sight  of 
her  would  not  be  half  a  man.  I  expect  to  fight  my  way 
through  a  hundred  suitors  to  get  her  hand.  The  admiral 
loves  me,  and  I  think  he  would  willingly  make  me  his  son-in- 
law.  But  I  must  go  to  sea  once  more  before  I  can  offer  to 
marry  her.  Therefore,  for  her  sake,  I  shall  go  to  London  and 
turn  courtier.  I  shall  attend  the  nobleman  who  once  promised 
me  an  appointment.  He  hath  now,  doubtless,  forgotten  both 
the  making  and  the  breaking  of  that  promise.  That  matters 
nothing.  I  shall  pay  my  court  to  him.  I  shall  practise  those 
arts  by  which  men  creep  into  snug  places :  it  needs  but  a  sup- 
ple back  and  an  oily  tongue.  Come  to  see  me  in  a  week  or 
two,  and  I  will  wager  that  I  shall  be  his  lordship's  obedient 
servant,  and  that  he  will  presently  give  me  a  command,  if  only 
of  a  pink ;  and  that  Castilla  shall  be  promised  to  me." 

All  these  things  came  to  pass,  indeed.  Yet  the  result  was 
not,  as  you  shall  learn,  what  he  looked  for. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ALAS!   POOR   BESS! 

ALAS  !  poor  Bess ! 

You  have  heard  how  she  spent  the  first  day,  and  with  what 
a  heavy  heart  she  went  to  bed.  In  the  morning  she  plucked 
up  heart  a  little.  As  for  what  the  lieutenant  said  to  her 
father,  what  matter  if  he^did  say  that  she  was  already  married? 
It  was  his  joke — Jack  would  ever  have  his  joke.  He  had  been 
busy  all  day.  The  evening  he  must  needs  spend  with  the 
admiral,  his  patron  and  benefactor.  But  he  would  not — he 
could  not  —  fail  to  see  her  the  second  day.  So  again  she 


278  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

dressed  in  her  best,  and  repaired  early  to  her  place  in  the 
apothecary's  parlor,  where  she  took  her  seat  and  waited.  But 
she  laughed  no  longer,  nor  did  she  prattle.  Jack  came  not ; 
he  was  in  London,  taking  a  lodging  in  Ryder  Street,  and  buy- 
ing brave  things  in  which  to  wait  upon  his  lordship.  And 
the  third  day  she  went  again— ^but  now  with  white  cheeks  and 
heavy  eyes,  and  she  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  replying  noth- 
ing, whatever  Mr.  Brinjes  might  say  to  her. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day  I  went  in  search  of  her,  being 
anxious,  and  dreading  mischief. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Mr. Westmoreland,  getting  off  the  stool — 
"I  know  not,  indeed,  Mr.  Luke,  what  hath  happened  to  the 
girl,  nor  where  she  is,  unless  she  is  in  Mr.  Brinjes's  parlor, 
where  most  of  her  days  are  spent.  These  three  days  she 
hath  forgotten  to  give  me  any  meals,  and  hath  left  me 
alone  all  day ;  while  in  the  evening,  when  I  come  home, 
she  either  sits  mum  or  she  goes  up-stairs.  Nothing  disturbs 
the  mind  in  the  midst  of  logarithms  more  than  a  doubt  wheth- 
er there  will  be  any  dinner  to  eat  or  any  supper.  At  this 
time  of  the  year  I  commonly  look  for  soft  cheese  and  a 
cucumber.  But  now  I  have  to  get  what  I  can.  I  know  not 
what  ails  her.  If  I  did  know,  I  question  whether  I  could  find 
any  remedy,  seeing  that  she  is  so  headstrong.  Sometimes  I 
doubt  whether  there  is  some  love  trouble  on  her  mind.  Yet 
I  know  not  with  whom.  It  cannot  be  with  Aaron  Fletcher, 
because  she  has  refused  the  young  man  several  times.  Be- 
sides, his  affairs  are  said  to  be  well-nigh  desperate,  his  boat 
being  lost,  his  yard  burned  down,  his  boat-building  business 
thrown  away  ;  yet  if  it  is  not  Aaron,  who  can  it  be  ?  Because, 
sir,  though  my  daughter  hath  her  faults,  and  those  many,  being 
as  to  temper  equalled  only  by  her  mother,  now  in  Abraham's 
bosom,  or — or  perhaps  elsewhere,"  he  added,  being  a  truthful 
man,  "  yet  she  is  not  one  who  courts  the  company  of  men,  nor 
listens  willingly  to  the  voice  of  love." 

Mr.  Brinjes,  though  it  was  in  the  afternoon,  was  talking  with 
his  assistant  in  his  shop. 

"  You  will  find  her,"  he  said,  "  within.  I  have  left  her  for 
five  minutes,  for  it  teases  me  to  see  her  thus  despairing.  The 
worst  has  yet  to  come,  because  she  is  not  a  girl  to  sit  down 
peaceably  under  this  contempt.  Well,  for  that  matter,  every 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  279 

sailor  is  inconstant,  if  you  please  ;  and  the  women  know  it  and 
expect  it.  But  Bess  is  no  common  Poll  o'  the  Point,  who 
looks  for  nothing  else  than  to  be  forgotten.  Nor  did  she  first 
seek  him  out.  Yet  I  knew  what  would,  happen,  because  such 
love  as  his  was  too  hot  to  last — else  would  it  burn  him  up. 
There  was  a  Bristol  man  in  Captain  Roberts's  company  was  con- 
sumed for  love  of  a  young  Coromantyn  girl,wasting  away  and  cry- 
ing out  that  he  was  on  fire,  yet  never  happy  unless  she  was  at  his 
side.  It  is  a  natural  witchery  which  a  few  women  possess,  by 
which  they  make  men  love  them,  and  draw  the  very  soul  out 
of  the  man  they  love.  Bess  hath  this  power :  she  can  make  any 
man  love  her,  and  when  she  loves  a  man  she  can  bewitch  him 
so  that  he  shall  never  be  happy  but  at  her  feet.  Why,  Jack 
hath  forgotten  her.  Yet  it  is  most  true  that  if  he  but  come 
back  to  her  for  a  single  day,  he  would  fall  at  her  feet  again." 
"  Nay,"  I  said,  "  he  is  already  in  love  with  another  woman." 
"Miss  Castilla,the  admiral's  daughter.  It  is  a  passing  fancy, 
because  she  is  a  pretty  creature,  small  and  slender.  But  to 
compare  her  with  Bess! — to  think  that  a  man  can  love  her 
as  he  can  love  Bess !  There  !  you  know  nothing  of  love.  Go 
in  there,  and  I  will  follow.  I  have  known,"  he  continued, 
being  garrulous,  as  old  men  often  are — "  I  have  known  such 
cases  as  this  of  Bess,  the  jealous  woman  who  hath  been  for- 
gotten— ay,  I  have  known  them  by  the  hundred.  Sometimes 
they  take  it  with  a  sudden  rage ;  sometimes  they  cry  out  for 
a  knife,  and  would  kill  their  faithless  lover  first  and  themselves 
next ;  sometimes  they  throw  themselves  into  the  water ;  some- 
times they  murder  the  other  woman ;  sometimes  they  laugh, 
and  lay  for  a  chance  of  revenge.  One  woman  I  knew  who 
concealed  her  wrath  for  twenty  years,  but  revenged  herself  in 
the  end.  Sometimes  they,  make  up  their  minds  that  it  matters 
little.  This  case  is  peculiar ;  for  the  patient  is  not  in  a  rage — 
as  yet ;  nor  has  she  called  for  a  knife — as  yet ;  nor  has  she 
promised  to  hang  herself — as  yet ;  but  she  sits  and  waits ;  and 
all  the  time  the  humors  are  mounting  to  the  brain ;  so  that  we 
are  only  at  the  beginning  of  the  disorder,  and  my  forecast  as 
to  this  disease  is,  my  lad,  that  we  shall  have  trouble.  What  ? 
Is  a  fine  high-spirited  girl  to  be  shoved  aside  into  the  gutter 
without  a  word  said  or  any  cause  pretended  ?  Not  so,  sir ;  not 
so.  There  will  be  trouble." 


280  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

I  passed  into  the  parlor  with  trepidation.  Bess  lifted  her 
head.  Her  face  was  pale  and  haggard;  wildness  was  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Where  is  he  ?"  she  cried.  "  You  call  yourself  my  friend, 
yet  you  come  without  him.  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Bess,  where  he  is,  unless  that  he  is  some- 
where in  London." 

"I  believe  it  is  you  who  have  kept  him  from  me — yet 
you  call  yourself  my  friend.  You  have  set  him  against  me. 
Though  what  you  have  found  to  say  I  know  not.  I  have  not 
so  much  as  looked  at  another  man  since  he  went  away,  and  I 
have  kept  his  secret  for  him,  so  that  no  one  suspects.  How 
dare  you  put  yourself  between  my  sweetheart  and  me  ?" 

"  Indeed,  Bess,"  I  told  her,  "  I  have  said  nothing  against 
you.  I  have  not  put  myself  between  Jack  and  you.  I  have 
said  nothing." 

Then  she  began  to  rail  at  me  for  my  silence.  Why  had  I 
not  spoken  of  her  ?  Why  had  I  not  reminded  him  of  his  faith 
and  promised  constancy  ?  "  And  where  is  he,"  she  repeated, 
"  that  he  does  not  come  to  me  ?  Is  he  afraid  of  me  ?  Doth 
he  try  to  hide  himself  out  of  my  way  ?" 

I  told  her  that  he  was  in  lodgings  in  town,  and  that  his 
time  was  taken  up  with  his  affairs.  And  then,  because  she 
began  to  upbraid  me  again,  I  thought  it  was  better  to  tell  her 
the  truth,  and  therefore  said  plainly  that  the  lieutenant  loved 
her  no  longer;  that  he  had  indeed  given  me  to  understand, 
without  the  possibility  of  a  mistake,  that  the  past  was  clean 
forgotten  and  gone  out  of  his  mind. 

I  was  sorry — truly  I  was  sorry — for  the  poor  creature ;  for 
every  word  I  said  was  nothing  less  than  a  dagger  into  her 
heart.  A  man  must  have  been  as  hard-hearted  as  a  Romish 
inquisitor  not  to  have  felt  sorry  for  her.  She  heard  me  with 
parted  lips  and  panting  breath.  Is  there,  I  wonder,  a  more 
dreadful  task  than  to  be  the  messenger  to  tell  a  fond  woman 
that  the  man  she  loves  now  loathes  her  ? 

Seeing  that  she  received  my  information  with  no  more  out- 
ward symptom  of  wrath,  I  began  to  point  out,  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,  that  Lieutenant  Easterbrook,  when  he  fell  in  love 
with  her,  was  still  less  than  twenty  years  of  age,  who  had  been 
for  six  years  separated  from  his  countrywomen,  and  had  for- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  281 

gotten  what  an  English  woman  should  be ;  that  he  might  have 
fallen  in  love  with  one  of  his  own  rank  but  for  his  long 
wanderings  among  savages  and  his  imprisonment  with  common 
sailors,  which  had  left  him  rough  and  rude  in  manners ;  that 
things  were  now  quite  changed,  because  he  was  not  only  an 
officer  of  some  rank,  but  was  now  a  gallant  gentleman,  keeping 
company  of  the  best,  and  might,  if  he  desired,  marry  an  heiress ; 
that  his  long  silence  ought  to  have  prepared  her  for  the  change 
in  his  disposition  ;  and  that,  seeing  nobody  except  Mr.  Brinjes 
and  myself  knew  of  what  had  happened,  a  wise  and  prudent 
girl  would  show  her  pride  and  take  her  revenge  by  showing 
that  she  cared  nothing  for  his  neglect.  In  fact,  I  said  on  this 
occasion  all  that  was  proper  to  be  said.  Mr.  Brinjes  sat  silent 
in  his  chair,  but  kept  his  eye  upon  Bess,  as  if  expecting  that 
something  would  happen. 

Then,  long  before  I  had  finished  all  I  had  to  say,  Bess  sud- 
denly sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  cry,  and  burst  forth  into  wild 
and  ungoverned  wrath.  I  have  seen  fishwives  fighting  at 
Billingsgate,  a  ring  of  men  and  women  round  them,  and  a  truly 
dreadful  thing  it  is  to  see  women  stripped  for  battle  and  using 
their  fists  like  men  ;  never  before,  or  since,  have  I  seen  a  young 
and  beautiful  girl  thus  give  way  to  passion  uncontrolled.  At 
first  she  could  find  no  words  to  express  her  wrath ;  she  clutched 
at  her  heart ;  she  tore  down  her  hair ;  she  gasped  for  breath ; 
she  swung  her  arms  abroad ;  she  swayed  her  body  backward 
and  forward.  I  looked  to  see  Mr.  Brinjes  go  seek  his  lancet, 
and  give  her  relief  by  breathing  a  vein.  But  he  did  not.  He 
sat  looking  on  coldly  and  anxiously,  as  if  he  were  watching  the 
progress  of  a  fever.  Presently  she  found  words. 

I  will  not  write  down  what  she  said,  because,  as  regards 
myself  and  Mr.  Brinjes,  her  reproaches  were  wholly  unde- 
served, and  indeed  we  had  been  throughout  her  best  friends. 
Besides,  the  ravings  of  a  femina  furens,  or  a  woman  mad  with 
jealousy  and  disappointed  love,  ought  not  to  be  set  down  any 
more  than  those  of  a  man  in  delirium.  When  she  came  to 
speak  of  her  faithless  lover  she  choked,  and  presently  stopped 
and  was  silent.  But,  poor  soul !  all  the  while  she  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  of  us  as  if  to  find  hope  in  our  faces,  but  saw 
none.  Finally  she  shrieked  aloud,  as  if  she  could  no  longer 
bear  this  agony,  and  hurled  herself  headlong  upon  the  floor, 


282  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

and  so  lay,  her  head  upon  her  hands,  her  whole  body  con- 
raised. 

"Let  be,  let  be,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes;  "after  this  she  will  be 
better.  The  storm  was  bound  to  burst.  Better  that  it  should 
rage  in  this  room  than  that  she  should  go  to  a  certain  house 
we  know  of — "  he  jerked  his  finger  in  the  direction  of  the 
admiral's.  Say  nothing  to  her ;  if  you  speak  you  will  make 
her  worse.  Presently  she  will  come  round.  What  ?  Nature 
can  go  no  further,  unless  she  would  wear  herself  to  pieces. 
And  they  never  go  so  far  as  that,  whatever  their  wrath,  be- 
cause the  pain  of  the  body  becomes  intolerable." 

He  spoke  as  if  she  could  not  hear  or  was  insensible,  which 
I  take  to  have  been  the  case,  for  in  five  minutes  or  so  she  sat 
up,  taking  no  notice  of  what  had  been  said,  and  became  partly 
rational,  and  said,  calmly,  sitting  on  the  floor,  that  she  should 
go  away  and  kill  Jack  first,  and  herself  afterwards ;  and  she 
declared  that  if  he  dared  to  address  any  other  woman,  she 
would  tear  her  limb  from  limb  ;  so  that  I  trembled  for  Castilla. 
But  Mr.  Brinjes  looked  on  without  surprise  or  terror,  murmur- 
ing :  "  Let  be,  let  be ;  it  will  do  her  good.  And  I  have  seen 
them  worse." 

And,  indeed,  presently  she  arose  from  the  floor  and  tied 
up  her  beautiful  hair,  which  had  fallen  about  her  shoulders, 
and  smoothed  her  disordered  frock,  and  sat  down  again  in 
the  window-seat,  clasping  her  knees  with  her  hands,  moaning 
and  weeping,  and  rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  And  at  this 
symptom  of  progress  or  development  of  the  "case,"  the 
apothecary  nodded  and  winked  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say  that 
the  disease  was  taking  a  favorable  turn. 

He  knew  the  symptoms,  this  learned  physician,  who  had 
studied  woman's  nature  where  it  is  the  most  ungovernable  and 
the  most  exposed  to  observation,  among  the  negresses,  and,  I 
suppose,  applied  to  more  civilized  women  the  rules  he  had 
learned  among  these  artless  pagans ;  for  in  fact  she  speedily 
ceased  either  to  weep  or  to  moan,  but  sat  upright,  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  spoke  quite  gently  and  prettily,  like  a  little  child 
who  has  been  naughty,  and  now  promises  to  be  good  again. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said, "that  I  have  given  so  much  trouble; 
I  will  never  do  it  again.  Mr.  Brinjes,  you  have  not  had  your 
nap,  nor  your  afternoon  punch,  through  my  fault.  I  will  mix 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  283 

you  a  glass,  and  then  you  shall  go  to  sleep."  She  did  so,  and 
arranged  his  pillows  for  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  afterwards 
the  old  man  was  sound  asleep.  Then  Bess  turned  to  me. 
"  Forgive  me,  Luke,"  she  said,  giving  me  her  hand.  "  You 
are  my  best  friend ;  except  this  poor  old  man,  you  are  my  only 
friend.  You  have  never  been  weary  of  teaching  me  how  a 
gentlewoman  should  behave,  so  that  I  should  be  worthy  of  a 
gentleman :  and  now  it  has  ended  in  this.  He  has  forgotten 
me,  who  have  never  forgotten  him — no,  not  for  a  moment, 
since  the  day  when  first  he  told  me — oh,  the  happy  day !  He 
came  into  the  room  where  I  was  sitting  before  the  fire,  and 
took  me  in  his  arms — oh,  in  his  arms !  Could  I  ever  forget 
him  ?  No,  no  ;  not  for  a  moment." 

"  My  poor  Bess !"  I  said,  "  what  can  I  say — what  do — for 
you  in  this  dreadful  trouble  ?" 

The  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  but  she  wept  no  longer. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  after  a  while,  "  what  I  will  do.  Here 
is  his  letter  to  me."  She  drew  it  from  her  bosom.  It  went  to 
my  heart  to  see  the  prettily  worked  silken  bag  she  had  made 
for  it  with  her  own  hands.  "  First,  you  shall  take  it  to  him, 
Luke,  and  give  it  to  him  yourself.  Will  you  do  so  much  for 
me  ?  It  is  not  a  great  thing  to  ask  you,  is  it  ?  Give  it  to  him, 
and  tell  him  that  he  must  read  it,  and  then  bring  it  back  to  me. 
And,  Luke,  dear  Luke,  you  have  always  been  kind  to  me,  al- 
ways my  friend,  though  you  know  nothing  about  love,  do  you  ? 
Else  you  would  understand  that  a  woman  would  rather  die  than 
lose  her  lover.  Give  him  the  letter.  When  he  reads  it  he  will 
remember,  and  then — then,  Luke —  You  will  tell  him — oh! 
tell  him  " — she  laid  her  hands  upon  my  arm,  and  gazed  upon 
me  with  imploring  eyes — "tell  him,  dear  friend,  that  I  am 
more  beautiful  than  ever — Mr.  Brinjes  says  I  am — and  that  I 
have  tried  to  teach  myself  the  ways  of  a  gentlewoman  for  his 
sake ;  and  that  I  can  read  and  write  a  little,  so  that  he  shall 
not  be  ashamed  of  me ;  and  that  I  associate  no  more  with  the 
other  girls,  and  have  been  true  to  him  ever  since  he  went  away. 
Tell  him  all,  Luke,  and  everything  else  that  you  can  think  of 
that  is  kind  and  friendly,  and  that  will  make  him  want  to  see 
me  again.  Oh,  if  he  were  here  in  this  room  with  me  for  one 
hour  he  would  love  me  again !" 

"  I  will  take  the  letter,  Bess,"  I  told  her,  moved  to  tears ; 


284  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL   THEN. 

"  and  I  will  give  it  to  him  myself,  and  tell  him  all  that  you 
wish,  and  more — more,  my  poor  Bess  !" 

"  When  will  you  give  it  to  him  ?" 

"  To-morrow.     Will  that  do  ?" 

So  with  that  promise  she  appeared  to  be  more  contented, 
and  went  away,  though  with  hanging  head — the  poor,  fond, 
loving  girl ! 

"  You  may  give  the  lieutenant  that  letter,"  said  the  apothe- 
cary, "  and  you  may  tell  him  what  you  please.  But,  if  I  know 
Jack  Easterbrook,  you  might  as  well  try  to  knock  him  down 
with  a  feather.  As  for  making  her  his  wife,  it  is  out  of  the 
question ;  and  to  become  his  mistress  without  being  his  wife, 
Bess  would  not  consent,  nor,  I  think,  would  Jack  ask  her. 
Because,  d'ye  see,  he  no  longer  cares  a  rope's-yarn  about  her. 
Yet  if  he  would  come  here  for  a  single  hour —  Bess  knows 
her  power :  trust  a  woman  who  has  that  power.  But  I  think 
he  will  not  come.  And  so  there  will  be  trouble — I  know  not 
yet  of  what  kind ;  there  will  be  trouble." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

AN    AMBASSADOR    OF    LOVE. 

I  READILY  accepted  the  mission  ;  but,  like  many  other  am- 
bassadors, I  hesitated  when  the  time  came  to  discharge  my 
trust.  For  Jack  was  like  those  Oriental  bashaws  who  cut  off 
the  heads  of  messengers  that  bring  uncomfortable  tidings. 
First  I  thought  it  would  be  best  to  give  the  letter  to  him  at 
Deptford,  so  that,  if  he  was  moved  by  pity  or  by  love,  he 
might  go  straight  to  the  poor  girl  and  offer  her  consolation. 
But  I  had  promised  to  give  it  the  very  next  day.  Therefore  I 
picked  up  courage  and  made  my  way  to  his  lodgings,  the  letter 
in  my  pocket,  knowing  full  well  that  he  would  take  my  inter- 
ference ill,  being  too  masterful  to  brook  counsel,  advice,  or 
admonition  from  any  one,  unless  it  came  as  an  order  from  a 
superior  officer. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  I  reached  his 
lodging  in  Ryder  Street.  He  was  sitting  wrapped  in  a  sheet, 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          285 

while  the  barber  was  finishing  his  hair  with  the  powder  puff. 
On  the  table  stood  his  morning  chocolate  and  cream. 

"  Ho  !"  he  cried.  "  Here  is  the  Prince  of  Painters.  Art 
come  to  paint  me  a  portrait,  Luke  ?"  (N.B. — I  did  paint  his 
portrait,  and  have  it  still,  a  speaking  likeness,  and  a  better 
piece  of  work  I  never  did.)  "  Wait  a  moment,  my  hearty,  till 
this  lubber  hath  finished  the  top-dressing." 

Presently  the  man  finished,  and  removed  the  sheet,  showing 
beneath  it  a  full-dress  lieutenant's  uniform — to  my  mind  the 
blue  of  the  navy  is  far  more  becoming  to  a  handsome  man 
than  the  scarlet  of  the  army.  Just  as  he  rose  from  the  barber's 
hands,  the  man  still  standing  before  him,  the  implements  of 
the  trade  in  his  hand,  and  I  beside  him,  I  heard  a  rustling  of 
petticoats  outside,  and  the  door  was  opened  by  a  lady.  She 
was  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  hood,  and  wore  a  domino. 

"  Madam  !"  said  Jack,  bowing  low. 

The  lady  removed  her  domino  and  laughed,  and  threw  off 
her  hood.  Truly  a  most  beautiful  creature  she  was,  and  most 
richly  dressed.  'Twas  the  merriest,  most  roguish  face  that  one 
ever  saw,  with  dancing  eyes  and  laughing  lips.  I  ought  to 
have  known  the  face,  because  I  had  seen  it  several  times ;  but 
I  did  not,  because  an  actress  dressed  for  a  queen  or  a  sultana 
seems  to  change  her  face  as  well  as  her  frock.  She  was,  in- 
deed, an  actress — very  well  known  indeed  to  the  world,  as  you 
would  acknowledge  did  I  write  down  her  name,  which  I  shall 
not  do  for  many  reasons. 

"  I  have  found  my  hero,  then,"  said  the  lady,  "  in  his  own 
— cabin — or  is  it  on  his  own  quarter-deck  ?  Are  the  decks 
cleared  for  action  ?  Are  you  ready,  sir,  to  engage  the  enemy  ?" 

"  Alas,  madam,"  said  Jack,  "  I  haul  down  my  colors  and  give 
up  my  sword." 

He  fell  upon  one  knee,  and  kissed  the  hand  which  the 
lady  graciously  extended  to  him.  Now  observe  that  she  took 
no  kind  of  notice  of  the  barber  or  of  myself,  whom  she  mis- 
took, doubtless,  for  an  assistant,  or  some  other  kind  of  trades- 
man. I  mean  that  in  what  followed  my  presence  was  not  the 
slightest  restraint  upon  her. 

"  I  am  a  rash  creature,"  she  said,  "  to  imperil  my  reputation 
by  visiting  a  lieutenant  of  the  king's  navy  alone  in  the  morn- 
ing. Suppose  I  had  been  observed  ?" 


286  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Madam  " — Jack  made  her  so  fine  a  bow  that  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  the  Jack  who  had  come  home  in  rags  three 
years  before — "  could  I  desire  a  more  delightful  task  than  the 
defence  of  your  reputation." 

"  I  thank  you,  lieutenant.  But  I  have  a  readier  defence  in 
my  hood  and  domino.  A  woman's  reputation  is  quite  safe,  I 
assure  you,  so  long  as  she  is  not  seen.  It  is  in  this  respect  un- 
like so  many  gentlemen's  honor,  which  is  only  safe  so  long  as 
they  are  seen.  I  came  not,  however,  for  compliments.  First 
of  all,  I  came  to  say  that  I  shall  be  alone  this  afternoon.  You 
can  visit  me  if  you  please.  Next,  my  lord  is  coming  to  supper 
with  me  after  the  theatre.  He  will  presently  call  here  himself, 
or  send  a  letter,  and  will  invite  you  to  come  with  him.  To 
oblige  me,  lieutenant,  you  will  come." 

"  Madam,"  said  Jack,  with  a  smiling  face,  "  you  were  born, 
sure,  to  make  me  the  happiest  of  men." 

"  The  happiest  of  men !"  she  repeated,  merrily  laughing. 
"  Oh !  what  creatures  we  women  should  esteem  ourselves,  since, 
with  such  little  trouble,  we  can  make  men  happy !  And  how 
miserable  are  we  that  it  takes  so  much  more  to  make  us  happy  ! 
Heigho  !  You  are  made  happy  with  a  smile,  or  a  kind  word, 
or  a  hand  to  kiss,  or  permission  to  take  supper  with  us — while 
we —  Oh !  we  know  how  little  these  things  are  worth.  There- 
fore—  No,  sir,  you  have  kissed  my  hand  already."  At  this 
point  the  barber,  who  had  been  gathering  up  his  tools,  retired 
from  the  room.  I  retreat  3d  to  the  window,  and  gazed  upon  the 
street,  as  if  I  were  anxious  not  to  listen.  She,  however,  took  no 
notice  of  my  presence.  "  Come  this  afternoon,  then,  and  this 
evening ;  after  you  have  seen  me  from  the  front,  you  can  join 
my  lord.  But  that  is  not  all  I  had  to  say,  oh,  'happiest  of  men !" 
She  laughed  again.  "  This  will  make  you  indeed  a  happy  man, 
if  the  roar  of  the  cannons  and  the  groans  of  wounded  men  are 
sweeter  than  the  smiles  of  women." 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  cannot  understand — " 

"  What  I  have  now  to  tell  will,  I  dare  say,  make  a  round 
dozen  of  women  miserable,  for  my  hero  is  a  handsome  hero. 
But  not  me,  sir.  Oh,  pray,  do  not  think  that!  An  actress, 
everybody  knows,  hath  no  heart.  She  is  but  a  toy,  to  be 
laughed  at  and  played  with  until  the  men  find  another  which 
is  newer,  and  hath  less  of  the  gilt  rubbed  off.  Yet  I  shall  be 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  28V 

sorry,  Jack — do  your  friends  call  you  Jack  ? — though  it  is 
but  the  day  before  yesterday  that  I  made  your  acquaintance, 
sir." 

"  Still,  madam,"  he  persisted,  "  I  know  not — " 

"  This  is  a  very  fine  coat,  Jack,"  she  went  on,  laying  her 
hand,  covered  with  a  white  glove,  upon  his  sleeve.  "  I  love  the 
color.  'Tis  a  new  coat,  too,  so  that  'twill  be  a  pity  to  buy  an- 
other. Perhaps,  however,  this  may  be  made  to  do,  and  me- 
thinks  it  will  be  greatly  improved  if  we  put  a  little  lace  upon 
the  lapels  and  cuffs,  and  change  the  button  for  one  with  a 
crown  instead  of  an  anchor." 

"  Madam  !"  He  started  and  changed  countenance,  because 
these  additions  mark  the  rank  of  captain.  "  Madam !  Is  it 
possible  ?" 

"  Why,  Jack,  when  a  handsome  lad  does  a  woman  so  great  a 
service,  and  for  all  his  reward  wants  nothing  but  to  be  sent 
away  from  her  sight,  I  doubt  whether  she  is  not  a  fool  for  her 
pains  if  she  help  him — yet — "  Here  she  sighed.  "  His  maj- 
esty's frigate  Calypso,  the  Sapphire's  prize,  is  to  be  refitted 
without  delay  and  commissioned.  Go,  take  possession  of  your 
own  quarter-deck,  Captain  Easterbrook.  Perhaps  the  next  lady 
whose  jewels  you  save  from  robbers  may  make  you  an  admiral." 
With  this  she  courtesied  so  as  to  sweep  the  ground,  as  they  are 
wont  to  do  upon  the  stage. 

"  Oh,  madam !"  he  cried,  "  how  can  I  show  my  gratitude  ?" 

"  You  will  not  set  sail  for  a  week  or  two  yet,  I  suppose. 
Come  to  me  as  often  as  you  please.  To  my  brave  defender  I 
am  always  at  home." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  but  Jack  did  not,  as  I  expected,  stoop 
to  kiss  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  disregarded  it  altogether,  and 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  kissing  her  lips  and  cheeks.  I  looked 
to  see  her  resent  this  familiarity  with  the  greatest  show  of  dis- 
pleasure, for  here  was  no  simple  girl  of  the  lower  sort,  like 
poor  Bess,  but  a  very  grand  lady  indeed,  who,  for  all  she  was 
an  actress,  had  all  the  noblemen  of  London  at  her  feet.  But, 
to  my  astonishment,  she  only  laughed,  and  gently  pushed  him 
from  her. 

"  Jack,"  she  said,  "  thou  hast  truly  a  conquering  way.  Let 
me  go,  sir !" 

She  laughed  again,  in  her  merry,  saucy  way ;  put  on  her 


288  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

domino,  pulled  the  hood  over  her  head,  and  suffered  Jack  to 
conduct  her  to  her  chair,  which  waited  without. 

"  Hang  it,  Luke  !"  cried  Jack,  when  he  came  back.  "  I  for- 
got that  thou  wast  here ;  and  I  dare  swear  madam  never  saw 
thee.  Must  I  never  kiss  a  pretty  woman  but  this  virtuous  fel- 
low must  still  be  looking  on,  with  open  mouth  ?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  Castilla,  Jack  ?" — thinking  of  what  might  have 
happened  had  Bess  been  there. 

"  Why,  in  a  kiss  there  is  no  harm,  surely  ;  therefore  there  is 
no  need  to  tell  Castilla.  If  this  news  be  true — and  it  must  be 
true —  Luke,  thou  art  a  Puritan.  As  for  a  simple  kiss  which 
is  snatched,  they  like  it,  man.  Every  woman,  except  Castilla, 
who  is  a  miracle  of  goodness,  likes  such  kisses." 

"  Who  is  the  lady,  Jack  ?" 

"  Why,  she  is  a  great  actress ;  and  the  other  night,  by  a 
lucky  chance — I  was  going  home  at  midnight — I  heard  a  wom- 
an's scream  and  a  trampling  of  feet.  'Twas  but  an  attack  upon 
a  lady's  chair  by  footpads,  whom  it  was  nothing  to  drive  off 
without  more  trouble  than  to  draw  and  to  slash  one  of  them 
across  the  face.  Then  I  saw  her  safe  to  her  lodgings.  'Tis  a 
grateful  creature." 

"  She  seems  grateful,"  I  said.  "  Do  actresses  often  appoint 
commanders  to  his  majesty's  ships  ?" 

"  No,  Luke  ;  no,  my  lad,  they  do  not.  These  appointments 
are  given  according  to  merit,  seniority,  courage,  seamanship, 
and  patriotism.  That  is  very  well  understood,  and  it  is  the 
reason  why  everybody  is  so  contented  who  wears  the  king's 
uniform.  But  suppose  that  one  of  my  lords  the  commissioners 
should  take  a  particular  interest  in  a  certain  lady,  and  suppose 
this  lady  should  have  eyes  to  see  all  these  virtues  combined  in 
one  man,  and  suppose  she  should  be  able  further  so  to  persuade 
his  lordship,  who,  we  will  again  suppose,  knows  already  some- 
thing of  this  man.  Confess,  then,  that  it  would  be  a  lucky 
thing  for  this  man  were  this  lady  to  single  him  out  for  the 
favor  of  recommendation." 

"  Truly,  it  would  be  lucky  for  him." 

"Captain  of  the  Calypso"  he  exclaimed.  "Why,  have  I 
done  badly  to  command  a  frigate  at  twenty-four  ?  What  care 
I  who  appoints  me,  so  that  I  get  my  chance  ?  Will  the  world 
know  ?  Have  I  done  anything  dishonorable  ?  My  lord  hath 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  289 

already  promised  me  promotion.  I  looked  to  be  first  lieuten- 
ant, perhaps — and  now —  Luke,  my  lad,  I  am  so  happy  that  I 
could  e'en  go  back  to  Deptford  and  fight  Aaron  Fletcher  again, 
as  I  did  three  years  ago  at  Horn  Fair." 

"  Yes,  Jack ;  I  could  wish  in  my  heart  that  you  would  fight 
him  again,  if  it  were  about  the  same  woman." 

"  Come,  lad,"  he  said,  "  ease  thy  mind,  which  is  full  of  some- 
thing. Let  me  hear  it." 

"  Put  out  of  your  mind,"  I  said, "  Castilla  and  this  actress 
and  all  women,  except  one.  I  have  been  asked  by  one  whom 
you  should  remember  to  bring  to  you  a  certain  letter,  and  to 
beg,  first,  that  you  will  read  it,  and  next,  that  you  will,  with 
your  own  hand,  restore  it  to  the  owner." 

With  this  I  took  the  letter  from  my  pocket  and  gave  it  to 
him  in  its  silk  bag. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  breaking  into  a  laugh,  as  if  the  matter  were 
not  serious  at  all,  "  this  is  my  own  letter.  I  wrote  it,  I  remem- 
ber, one  afternoon,  off  Cape  Finisterre — I  remember  the  day 
very  well.  Did  the  girl — Bess  Westmoreland  was  her  name — 
give  it  to  thee,  Luke  ?  Oh  !  I  remember — I  was  in  love  with 
her.  A  devilish  fine  girl  she  was,  with  eyes  like  sloes." 

He  read  the  letter  through.  "  To  think  that  I  wrote  that 
letter,  and  that  she  believed  it !  '  Most  beautiful  woman  in  the 
world.'  .  .  .  *  Fondest  lover  !'  Oho  !  I  wonder  how  many  such 
letters  are  written  aboard  ship  the  first  week  after  sailing  ?  As 
for  this — why,  Luke,  you  had  better  give  it  back  to  the  girl,  if 
she  wishes  to  keep  it.  Tell  her  to  show  it  to  her  friends  as 
the  work  of  a  fool.  Perhaps  her  new  lover  or  her  husband 
might  like  to  have  the  letter.  But,  indeed,  I  think  she  had 
better  burn  the  thing,  in  case  of  accidents.  Husbands  do  not 
like  generally  to  read  such  letters." 

"  She  has  had  no  other  lovers,  Jack,  on  your  account." 

"  Pretty  fool !     Bid  her  waste  good  time  no  longer." 

"  She  will  suffer  no  man  to  speak  to  her,  saying  that  she  be- 
longs to  you  alone,  and  thinking  you  would  come  home  to  marry 
her." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Jack,  his  face  darkening,  "  that  the  med- 
dlesome old  apothecary  is  at  the  bottom  of  this  foolishness." 

"  And  myself  too.  Why,  Jack,  you  solemnly  placed  her  in 
my  charge.  You  begged  me  to  take  care  of  her.  You  tattooed 
13 


290  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

her  name  upon  your  arm.  Look  at  your  arm.  What  could  we 
think  ?  She  has  learned  things  for  your  sake,  Jack — such  as 
gentle  manners,  and  to  restrain  her  tongue,  and  to  govern  her- 
self— generally,  that  is,"  because  I  remembered  the  scene  of 
yesterday.  "  You  would  not  know  her  again." 

"  Well,  Luke,  she  has  therefore  been  so  far  kept  out  of  mis- 
chief, which  is  good  for  every  girl.  And  this  is  a  wicked 
world,  and  seaports  are  full  of  traps  for  girls.  Tell  her,  how- 
ever, that  now  she  had  better  lose  no  time  in  looking  for  a 
husband  in  her  own  station.  The  fellow  Aaron  Fletcher  would 
perhaps  make  a  good  husband,  provided  he  kept  decently  so- 
ber." 

"  Do  not  blame  Mr.  Brinjes.  He  hath  warned  her  continu- 
ally that  sailors  go  away  and  break  their  promises.  But  will 
you  see  her,  Jack?" 

"  No.     What  the  devil  would  be  the  use  of  my  seeing  her." 

I  told  him  how  she  had  put  on  her  bes^  and  had  gone  to 
wait  for  him  at  the  apothecary's,  and  there  waited  for  three 
long  days.  But  he  was  not  softened  a  whit. 

"  It  is  their  foolish  way,"  he  said.  "  We  say  fond  things, 
and  promise  whatever  will  please  them,  and  they  believe  it  all. 
Why  they  believe  the  nonsense,  the  Lord  knows.  As  for  the 
men  who  say  it,  and  make  the  promises,  they  believe  it  too,  I 
dare  say,  at  the  time.  'Tis  pretty,  too,  to  see  them  purr  and 
coo,  whatever  extravagances  you  tell  them.  I  remember,  now — " 
But  here  he  stopped  short  in  his  recollections. 

"  Jack,"  I  said,  "  will  you  pull  up  your  sleeve,  and  show  me 
your  arm  ?" 

He  laughed,  and  obeyed.  It  was  his  left  arm,  and,  as  we 
know,  it  was  tattooed  all  over  with  the  once-loved  name  of 
Bess. 

"  'Tis  like  the  arm  of  any  fo'k's'le  tar,"  he  said.  "  What 
was  I,  in  those  days,  better  ?  Yet,  lad,  the  name  hath  no  longer 
any  meaning  to  my  eyes." 

"  Meaning  or  not,"  I  insisted,  "  will  you  give  her  the  letter 
with  your  own  hand  ?  Jack,  only  let  her  tell  you  what  is  in 
her  mind.  That  is  a  small  thing  to  do." 

"  It  would  be  more  cruel  than  to  refuse  to  see  her  at  all. 
Trust  me,  if  this  girl  gives  trouble,  I  shall  know  how  to  deal 
with  her.  If  you  have  any  regard  for  her,  bid  her  spoil  her 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  291 

market  no  longer,  and  put  maggots  out  of  her  head.  She 
would  marry  me,  would  she  ?  Kind  soul,  I  thank  her  for  it 
with  all  my  heart.  She  would  marry  me,  would  she  ?  I  will 
tell  thee  a  thing,  my  lad,  which  thou  wilt  never  find  out  for 
thyself  with  all  thy  paint-brushes — there  is  no  woman  in  the 
world  more  hateful  to  a  man  than  a  woman  he  hath  once  loved 
and  now  loves  110  longer.  It  is  like  coming  back  to  a  half-fin- 
ished banquet  when  the  dishes  are  cold  and  the  wine  is  stale. 
Yet  the  foolish  women  believe  that  once  in  love,  always  in 
love.  Better  she  should  learn  the  truth  at  once,  and  so  an  end." 

He  gave  me  back  the  letter,  and  would  say  no  more  upon 
the  subject.  But  he  said  I  must  make  a  picture  of  him  before 
he  went  away,  and  he  would  be  painted  in  the  new  uniform, 
which  he  would  order  immediately ;  and  I  must  go  instantly 
and  tell  Castilla  of  his  good-fortune.  Thus  was  I  made  a  go- 
between,  first  to  one  and  then  to  the  other. 

"  And  now,  Luke,  my  fortune  is  made,  if  I  am  only  moder- 
ately lucky.  He  who  is  captain  at  twenty-four  may  well  be 
rear-admiral  at  thirty,  and  command  a  fleet  at  thirty-five ;  at 
forty  he  is  certainly  a  knight,  and  perhaps  a  viscount ;  and  at 
seventy  he  lies  in  Westminster  Abbey.  What  could  I  hope 
for  better,"  he  asked,  glowing  with  the  joy  and  elation  of  his 
appointment,  "than  to  command  a  frigate,  easy  to  handle, 
swift  to  sail  ?  Why,  it  will  be  the  Tartar  over  again,  in  the 
captain's  cabin  instead  of  the  wardroom.  That  was  warm 
work ;  but  I  hope  to  show  warmer  work  still.  God  knows, 
Luke,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "  I  say  it  not  in  boastfulness,  I  can 
handle  a  ship  as  well  as  the  best  man  afloat,  and  I  can  take  her 
into  action,  I  promise  you,  as  bravely." 

So  he  talked,  thinking  no  more  at  the  time  of  the  actress,  or 
of  Castilla,  or  of  Bess,  for  the  thought  of  any  ship  was  enough 
to  turn  his  mind  from  a  woman,  though  he  so  easily  fell  in  love 
with  a  pretty  girl.  And  while  he  was  thus  talking  of  his  pro- 
motion, and  the  things  he  hoped  to  do  with  his  vessel,  there 
drove  to  the  house  a  chariot,  with  footmen  and  gold  panels, 
very  splendid,  and  two  gentlemen  got  down.  They  came  to 
visit  Jack.  One  of  them  was  a  man  no  longer  young,  yet  erect 
and  tall,  with  aquiline  nose  and  proud  eyes.  He  wore  a  satin 
coat,  with  a  sash,  and  a  star  blazing  with  diamonds.  The  other 
was  in  the  uniform  of  the  army. 


292  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Jack  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  bowed  to  the  ground.  "  My 
lord,"  he  said,  "this  is  an  extraordinary  honor.  Indeed,  I 
could  never  have  expected  it." 

"  I  have  come,  young  gentleman,"  said  his  lordship,  speak- 
ing slowly  and  with  the  dignity  which  became  his  rank,  "  to 
tender  you  my  thanks  for  the  service  which  you  performed  the 
night  before  last  to  a  certain  lady." 

"  My  services,  my  lord,  were  trifling,  though,  fortunately, 
opportune." 

"  Had  it  not  been  for  your  assistance  the  lady  would  have 
lost  the  jewels  which  she  had  worn  at  the  theatre.  What 
other  loss  or  insult  she  escaped,  I  know  not.  I  learn  that,  at 
her  request,  you  have  already  paid  a  visit  upon  her." 

"  At  her  request,  my  lord,  I  had  the  honor,  yesterday  after- 
noon." 

"  Believe  me,  sir,  that  in  return  for  such  a  service  there  is 
nothing  that  I  can  refuse  you."  Jack  bowed  again  very  low. 
"And  since  nothing  will  please  you  so  much  as  to  go  back  as 
quickly  as  possible  to  the  fighting — " 

"  Nothing  so  much,  my  lord." 

"  Then  you  must  go.  Your  name,  I  find,  is  already  favora- 
bly known.  I  have  therefore  the  pleasure  of  promoting  for  the 
sake  of  merit  alone,  which  is  not  always  possible  for  a  commis- 
sioner. You  are  promoted,  sir,  to  the  command  of  the  Calypso, 
the  Sapphire's  prize." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Jack,  again  bowing  low,  "  I  have  no  words, 
indeed,  to  express  my  gratitude  for  this  great,  this  unexpected, 
and  undeserved  favor."  Looking  on  from  the  corner  of  the 
room,  beside  the  window,  I  confess  I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  it  would  be  best  for  madam  to  say  nothing  about  that  sa- 
lute upon  her  lips. 

"  Then,"  said  his  lordship,  "  no  more  need  be  said."  He 
rose,  and  added,  smiling :  "  Since  you  will  have  to  go  back  in 
a  few  days  to  salt  junk  and  pea-soup,  captain,  make  the  most 
of  your  time  ashore.  There  will  be  a  supper  after  the  play 
this  evening.  I  will,  if  you  please  to  honor  me  with  your  com- 
pany, carry  you  thither  in  my  coach." 

"  I  am  honored  to  be  one  of  your  lordship's  guests,"  said 
Jack. 

"  A  rolling  deck,  a  wet  cabin,  the  smell  of  tar  everywhere, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  293 

great  sea-boots,  the  waves  flying  over  the  ship,  the  enemy 
pitching  cannon-balls  on  board  :  this  is  what  you  like,  Captain 
Easterbrook.  Well,  sir,  you  will  have  plenty  of  it,  for  there 
will  be  a  long  war,  if  ail  I  hear  is  true.  I  shall  see  you,  then, 
this  evening.  Come,  colonel." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

HOW    THE    APOTHECARY    DID    HIS    BEST. 

"  TELL  her  plainly,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  what  he  said,  and 
how  he  looked  while  he  said  it.  Spare  her  in  nothing ;  so  will 
she  the  more  quickly  come  to  a  right  mind.  What?  Didst 
ever  see  a  surgeon  take  off  a  man's  leg  ?  Doth  he  chop  here  a 
cantle,  and  there  a  snippet,  for  fear  of  causing  pain  ?  Not  he  ? 
He  ties  his  bandages  and  takes  his  saw,  and  in  five  minutes  off 
goes  the  leg ;  and  though  the  man  may  bellow,  yet  his  life  is 
saved." 

There  was  little  hope  in  her  face  when  I  went  in  to  her ;  the 
trouble  of  it  made  my  heart  bleed.  To  think  that  a  woman 
should  still  so  much  love  a  man  who  had  thrown  her  away  with 
as  little  thought  as  one  throws  away  the  rind  of  an  apple !  I 
thought  she  would  have  hated  him.  But  no ;  at  a  word  she 
would  have  risen  to  follow  and  obey  him  like  a  slave. 

"  Bess,"  I  said,  "  be  brave." 

«  Where  is  he «" 

"  He  is  in  London,  at  his  lodgings." 

"  Did  you  give  him  the  letter  ?" 

"  I  did.  He  sent  it  back  to  you.  Her*  it  is.  Courage,  Bess. 
No  man  is  worth  so  much  crying  over.  It  is  as  I  told  you  be- 
fore. He  loves  you  no  longer.  When  he  thinks  of  the  past, 
he  wonders  at  himself.  When  he  remembers  how  much  he  was 
once  in  love,  he  laughs." 

"  Doth  he  laugh  ?  Oh,  Luke,  can  he  laugh  ?"  It  was  won- 
derful to  her  that  the  thing  which  destroyed  all  her  happiness 
could  be  to  him  only  the  cause  of  laughter. 

"  Bess,  my  dear,  I  am  grieved  to  the  soul  that  I  must  tell 
you  this.  Alas,  he  laughs.  He  can  never  love  you  any  more. 
Forget  him,  therefore.  Put  him  out  of  your  thoughts." 


294  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

".  He  laughs  at  the  girl  to  whom  he  wrote  this  letter — oh ! 
this  dear  letter.  Why  doth  he  laugh  ?  I  cannot  laugh,  because 
I  love  him." 

She  rose,  and  sighed  heavily.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "  there 
needs  no  more,  Luke.  I  have  lost  my  sweetheart.  That  mat- 
ters nothing,  does  it?  Thousands  of  poor  women  lose  their 
sweethearts  every  year,  in  action  and  in  shipwreck.  No  one 
pays  heed  to  the  women.  What  matters  one  more  woman  ? 
Oh  !  I  would  to  God  that  he  was  lying  dead  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sea ;  and  I — and  I — and  I — "  She  rushed  from  the  room 
with  distraction  in  her  looks. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  at  the  admiral's,  whither  I  carried 
the  glad  news  of  Jack's  promotion.  Castilla  attributed  it  en- 
tirely to  the  extraordinary  discernment  of  his  lordship,  who 
deserved,  she  thought,  the  highest  credit  for  discovering  Jack's 
real  ability  and  courage,  so  that  he  should  be  promoted,  over 
hundreds  of  heads,  to  the  command  of  a  frigate,  before  he  was 
four-and-twenty  years  of  age.  Truly  it  makes  one  no  happier 
to  be  wiser,  and  Castilla  knew  nothing  about  the  great  lady  of 
Drury  Lane.  Heaven  forbid  that  she  should  learn  anything 
about  that  ravished  kiss ! 

The  day  was  marked  at  the  club  in  the  usual  manner,  viz., 
by  an  extra  bowl  of  punch ;  and  I  sat  beside  the  admiral  and 
told  the  company  how  his  lordship,  in  a  splendid  satin  coat, 
with  a  red  sash  and  a  diamond  star,  had  condescended  in  per- 
son to  inform  this  fortunate  young  commander  of  his  promotion. 
But  you  may  be  sure  that  I  told  nothing  about  the  actress,  even 
to  the  admiral,  who  marvelled  greatly  at  the  boy's  success,  and 
wondered,  being  wise  by  experience,  by  whose  private  interest 
he  had  been  promoted. 

But  the  woman  who  ought  most  to  have  rejoiced  was  wan- 
dering all  night  long,  in  wind  and  rain,  over  the  desolate  moor 
called  Blackheath,  raging  and  despairing,  because  the  man  who 
once  loved  her  so  tenderly  had  now  forgotten  her,  and  laughed 
to  think  that  he  could  ever  have  thought  he  loved  her.  In  the 
morning  she  came  back,  mud-stained  and  draggled,  hollow-eyed 
and  wan  of  cheek,  to  the  parlor  behind  the  apothecary's  shop ; 
and  here  presently  she  fell  asleep,  being  wholly  spent  with 
suffering  and  fatigue. 

Now  when  Mr.  Brinjes  came  from  his  shop,  and  saw  her  thus 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  295 

asleep  and  so  pale  of  cheek,  he  was  moved  with  compassion, 
and  resolved,  though  he  had  not  visited  London  for  twenty 
years,  that  he  would  himself  try  to  move  the  hard  heart  of  her 
lover.  Accordingly  he  put  off  his  workday  clothes,  and  reached 
down  his  great  wig  and  the  coat  in  which  he  sat  at  the  club 
(both  of  which  belonged  to  the  early  years  of  George  I.),  and 
so,  fully  persuaded  that  he  was  dressed  quite  in  the  modern 
fashion  of  a  court -physician,  he  took  oars  for  Hungerford 
Stairs,  whence  he  walked  to  Ryder  Street. 

On  the  way  the  boys  shouted  at  him,  for  he  cut  the  queerest 
figure,  his  velvet  coat  being  so  old  that  it  had  turned  green  in 
places,  his  lace  in  rags,  his  old-fashioned  wig  unkempt  and 
shabby.  But  he  walked  briskly,  careless  of  the  boys,  and  car- 
ried his  gold-headed  stick  with  an  air  of  majesty. 

"Jack,"  he  said,  dropping  into  a  chair,  "thou  art  now,  I 
hear,  a  captain.  Give  me  a  glass  of  brandy — 'tis  a  long  jour- 
ney from  Deptford — and  I  will  drink  to  thy  good  luck.  So — 
this  is  a  pretty,  commodious  lodging,  Jack.  I  passed  some 
fine  women  on  the  way  from  Hungerford  Stairs.  Have  a  care, 
my  boy.  Do  not  suffer  any  of  the  fine  birds  to  bring  their  fine 
feathers  here ;  else  it  may  cost  thee  dear.  Be  content  with 
some  honest  wench  who  will  love  thee  and  not  try  to  rob  and 
plunder  all  the  prize-money." 

"Well,  Mr.  Brinjes" — Jack  was  not,  I  think,  best  pleased 
to  see  the  old  man  at  his  lodgings,  and  more  than  suspected 
the  errand  on  which  he  came — "  can  I  be  of  any  service  to  my 
old  friend  ?" 

"  That  depends,  Jack — that  depends.  The  greatest  service 
you  could  do  for  me  would  be  not  to  forget  old  friends." 

"  Indeed,  I  have  forgotten  no  old  friends." 

"  Or  old  sweethearts." 

"  Why,  as  for  old  sweethearts,  my  old  friend,  they  may  go 
on  so  long  as  to  become  stale.  This  you  have  often  assured 
me  as  a  matter  of  your  own  experience." 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  replied  the  rover,  who  had  not  looked  to 
have  his  own  maxims  thrown  in  his  face — "  it  is  quite  true,  I 
say,  that  woman  is  by  nature  a  jealous  creature  ;  the  nearer  to 
nature  you  get,  the  more  jealous  you  will  find  her.  Something 
of  the  tigress  in  every  one.  Wherefore  Bess,  who  is  as  pas- 
sionate as  a  negro  woman,  is  more  jealous,  I  dare  say,  than  a 


296  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

London  fine  lady,  who  hath  not  the  heart  to  be  greatly  jealous. 
Also  a  woman  can  never  be  made  to  understand  such  a  simple 
thing  as  that  she  ought  to  be  contented  with  the  half  share  of 
a  man,  or  the  quarter  share,  or  even  a  short  six  months  of  his 
life  ashore.  Nor  doth  she  ever  perceive  when  the  time  arrives 
that  she  should  cheerfully  make  way  for  another.  Yet — poor 
Bess !  I  am  sorry  for  the  wench." 

"  In  South  America,"  said  Jack,  talking  in  the  same  strain, 
"  where  they  smoke  the  cigarro,  one  that  hath  been  half  smoked 
and  thrown  away  is  nauseous  if  it  be  taken  up  and  lighted 
again." 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  Every  one  who  hath  been  in 
Guayaquil, which  is  nigh  unto  South  America,  knows  that  it  is  so." 

"  Wherefore — "  said  Jack,  but  left  the  conclusions  to  be 
drawn  by  the  philosopher. 

"  The  thing  is  so,"  Mr.  Brinjes  repeated.  "  Jack,  when  thy 
first  letter  came,  I  knew  that  the  fit  was  too  hot  to  last.  And 
when  no  more  came,  I  understood  very  well  what  had  happened. 
For  my  own  part,  I  never  loved  any  woman  more  than  f  our-and- 
twenty  hours  after  leaving  port.  Why,  I  have  seen  sailors  mar- 
rying the  day  before  they  sailed,  and  yet  coming  on  board 
unconcerned.  This  f orgetfulness  is  a  special  gift  of  Providence, 
intended  for  sailors  alone.  But  as  for  Bess,  while  you  thought 
no  more  upon  her,  she  had  that  letter  wrapped  in  a  silken  bag 
and  hung  about  her  neck ;  and  every  day  she  kissed  and  hugged 
it,  thinking,  poor  fond  soul ! — women  are  fools,  yet  we  needs 
must  feel  pity  for  them — that  the  writer,  like  herself,  would 
never  change.  She  began  to  learn  things  for  her  lover's  sake ; 
she  learned  to  read  and  write ;  she  watched  the  ladies  in  church 
to  see  how  they  dress  and  how  they  carry  themselves ;  she  made 
Luke  teach  her  some  of  their  finickin',  delicate  ways,  which 
don't  go  down  with  a  sea-pie  and  black  beer,  such  as  you  used 
to  love  in  the  days  before  your  breeches  were  white  and  your 
stockings  of  silk,  and  while  your  buttons  carried  a  simple  an- 
chor. Moreover,  Bess  would  no  longer  consort  with  her  old 
friends,  and  suffer  none  of  the  men  so  much  as  to  have  speech 
with  her.  And  she  made  Luke  tell  her  what  words  and  sayings 
of  hers  would  offend  the  ears  of  gentlewomen.  In  short,  there 
she  is,  my  lad,  a  woman  ready  for  you ;  as  to  manners,  so  far 
as  I  understand  the  matter,  as  fine  as  a  countess ;  as  to  good 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  297 

I 

looks,  not  a  countess  of  them  all  can  touch  her ;  as  to  figure 
— Lord  !  a  finer  figure  was  never  made  ;  as  to  temper,  a  noble 
temper,  my  lad,  quick  and  ready  to  flame  up.  What !  One 
that  will  keep  her  husband  alive,  I  warrant,  and  stirring.  Why, 
Jack,  we  talked  of  a  half-burned  cigarro.  This  one  is  not  yet 
even  lighted.  Try  it  again,  dear  lad.  'Tis  made,  I  swear,  from 
the  finest  leaf  of  Virginia.  In  South  America  they  have  none 
such.  As  for  truth  and  constancy,  I  will  answer  for  them  with 
my  life ;  and  for  affection — why,  'tis  nothing  less  than  a  mad- 
ness she  hath  for  thee.  Come,  what  want  you  with  fine  ladies  ? 
They  will  but  play  with  you  when  you  are  ashore,  and  forget 
you  when  you  are  at  sea,  while,  as  for  Bess,  Bess  will  keep 
your  house  while  you  are  away,  and  when  you  come  home  she 
shall  be  the  tenderest  wife  in  the  world,  and  like  a  faithful 
slave  for  service.  What !  You  would  say  that  by  birth  she  is 
below  the  rank  of  a  commander  ?  Jack,  hark  ye  !" — here  he 
whispered,  as  if  imparting  a  great  secret — "a  beautiful  woman 
hath  no  rank.  There  must  be  rank  for  men,  otherwise  there 
would  be  no  discipline  on  board  the  ship.  Rank  was  invented 
for  that  purpose ;  and  the  pretence  is  necessary  for  order's 
sake,  whether  we  call  each  other  duke,  earl,  and  noble  lord,  or 
captain,  lieutenant,  and  master.  Yet  it  is,  even  with  men,  noth- 
ing but  pretence  at  bottom.  But  for  women  there  is  no  rank 
at  all,  whatever  they  may  themselves  pretend ;  which  is  proved, 
Jack,  by  the  fact  that  great  men  do  constantly  fall  in  love  with 
women  of  the  meanest  origin,  as  witness  Charles  II.  and  Nelly 
Gwynne.  You  may  put  Bess  upon  a  throne,  and,  my  word, 
there  is  not  a  queen  among  them  all  would  outshine  her  black 
eyes  and  beauteous  face.  Whereas  you  will  never  see  a  woman 
of  gentle  birth  fall  in  love  with  a  clown.  Rank  is  for  the  ugly 
women  to  console  themselves  withal,  by  walking  in  front  of 
each  other.  Give  me  another  tot  of  brandy,  Jack ;  and  think 
of  her  again,  I  say.  Why,  I  can  never  get  out  of  my  mind  that 
we  shall  all  three — you  and  Bess  and  I — we  shall  all  three  sail 
together  across  the  broad  Pacific  to  pick  up  my  treasure,  and 
to  burn  the  town  of  Guayaquil,  where  they  made  me  a  slave. 
I  cannot  die  until  that  town  is  burned." 

"I  know  nothing,"  said  Jack,  "about  your  dreams.     But, 
for  the  rest,  you  are  too  late,  Mr.  Brinjes.      I  have  forgotten 
the  girl.     All  the  past  foolishness  is  over  and  finished." 
13* 


298  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  looking  at  him  as  a  physician  when 
he  feels  the  pulse,  "  yes  " — he  spoke  slowly  and  sadly — "  I  now 
perceive  plainly  that  it  is  all  over.  The  symptoms  are  clear. 
Your  eyes  warm  no  more  at  the  thought  of  the  girl.  Her 
chance  is  gone.  The  poor  child  hath  had  her  time.  Well,  I 
shall  go  home  again.  Pray  Heaven  my  assistant  hath  not 
already  poisoned  a  customer  or  two.  Jack,  keep  out  of  her  way. 
There  will  be  trouble  yet." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brinjes,"  he  laughed,  "  you  do  not  think  that  I 
am  afraid  of  a  woman  ?" 

"Nay,  I  said  not  that.  But — well,  we  shall  have  trouble 
yet.  And  for  these  Southern  Seas,  sure  I  am  that  I  shall  see 
them  again  before  I  die." 

So  the  apothecary  went  away,  having  done  what  he  could, 
and  having  failed. 

"  We  sailors,"  said  Jack  to  me,  presently,  "  are  great  fools  in 
our  love  for  taverns  and  drinking-bouts  and  low  company,  so 
that  those  are  right  who  represent  us  as  so  many  dull  dogs 
who  have  no  manners,  and  can  do  nothing  ashore  but  drink 
about.  Why,  when  I  came  home  three  years  ago,  the  Gun 
Tavern  was  the  height  of  civilization,  the  apothecary's  dirty 
parlor  was  the  abode  of  politeness,  and  poor  Bess  was  the  finest 
lady  in  the  land. 

"  We  are  mostly  such  mere  tarpaulins,"  he  continued,  after 
a  space,  "  that  landsmen  do  well  to  despise  us,  though  we  fight 
their  battles  for  them,  and  care  not  how  we  are  treated,  nor 
how  many  hundreds  they  pass  over  when  they  make  appoint- 
ments. Then  we  fall  to  cursing  the  service,  instead  of  our  own 
common  habits.  There  was  on  board  the  Tartar  one  of  the 
lieutenants  (he  is  now  dead)  who  was  a  gentleman — I  mean  by 
taste  and  education  as  well  as  by  birth — who  sometimes  talked 
with  me,  saying  that  'twas  a  pity  a  lad  of  my  appearance  and 
figure  (which  he  flattered)  should  not  study  polite  manners  for 
the  sake  of  my  own  advancement,  because,  with  a  little  trouble, 
I  might  certainly  attract  attention  in  high  places,  and  so  receive 
promotion.  In  this  he  was  partly  right,  though  I  now  find 
that  great  men  think  they  can  pay  for  the  service  of  flattery  in 
promises,  as  a  merchant  pays  for  goods  with  a  piece  of  paper. 
But  there  is  a  difference,  because,  if  the  merchant  do  not 
redeem  his  promise  when  the  day  comes,  he  is  dishonored ; 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

whereas  if  a  nobleman  doth  not  redeem  his  promise,  no  one 
throws  the  fact  in  his  teeth.  And  if  I  had  not  been  so  lucky 
as  to  rescue  a  certain  friend  of  my  lord,  I  doubt  whether  I 
should  have  got  any  appointment,  to  say  nothing  of  promotion. 
"But,  lad,  consider.  Here  I  live  among  the  best;  I  am 
received  at  a  great  man's  table  ;  I  sit  in  the  coffee-house  among 
the  wits  or  the  fops,  as  I  please ;  I  go  to  the  theatre,  to  Rane- 
lagh,  and  to  Vauxhall ;  there  is  the  gaming-table,  if  I  choose 
to  risk  a  few  pieces  ;  if  I  am  ever  disposed  for  a  quiet  evening, 
there  is  the  society  of  Castilla,  the  sweetest  girl  in  the  world ; 
if  for  a  sprightly  party,  there  are  the  suppers  of  my  friend — 
my  patron,  if  you  please — and  this  actress.  Think  you  that 
after  these  things  I  can  go  back  to  Mr.  Brinjes's  stinking  par- 
lor and  the  penman's  daughter?  She  may  be  as  beautiful  as 
he  says — I  care  not.  She  is  certain  to  have  coarse  hands,  rude 
speech,  and  plain  manners.  You  might  as  soon  expect  me  to 
go  back  to  the  cockpit,  and  to  mess  again  with  the  midship- 
men, the  volunteers,  and  the  surgeon's  mates." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

AN    INTERESTING    CASE. 

WHAT  would  be  done  next  I  knew  not,  yet  feared  something 
desperate,  the  case  lying,  on  the  one  hand,  between  a  woman 
driven  well-nigh  mad  with  love  and  disappointment,  and,  on  the 
other,  a  man  of  great  determination,  inflexible  to  tears  and  en- 
treaties, and,  besides,  one  who  now  regarded  this  poor  girl,  as 
he  himself  confessed,  with  as  much  loathing  as  he  had  once 
felt  love.  I  have  read  in  some  book  of  travels  that  there  are 
certain  hot  fountains  in  Iceland  which  burst  forth  from  time  to 
time  with  incredible  force,  and  either  scald  to  death  those  upon 
whom  they  chance  to  play,  or,  by  the  ground  sinking  beneath 
their  footsteps,  do  suddenly  engulf  them.  We  were  now — that 
is,  Mr.  Brinjes  and  myself,  who  alone  knew  what  was  threaten- 
ing— like  unto  those  who  walk  upon  ground  where  these  foun- 
tains break  out ;  for  we  knew  not  what  ruin  might  fall  upon 
us  at  any  moment,  caused  by  the  hand  of  a  desperate  woman. 


300  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

No  one  knows  the  trouble  the  poor  girl  gave  us  at  this  time, 
with  her  changing  moods,  her  fits,  and  her  despair.  For  some- 
times she  would  sit  for  many  hours  swinging  her  body  back- 
ward and  forward,  tearing  a  ribbon  or  a  handkerchief  with  her 
teeth ;  sometimes  she  would  sit  quite  still,  her  eyes  fixed  and 
glowering;  then  she  would  suddenly  spring  to  her  feet,  and 
cry  aloud  that  she  could  bear  it  no  longer;  sometimes  she 
would  threaten  death  and  murder  to  her  false  lover,  and  to  any 
woman  who  should  dare  to  take  him  from  her ;  sometimes  she 
would  rush  from  the  room  and  wander  away,  till  she  was  forced 
to  come  back  for  weariness ;  and  sometimes  she  would  become 
gentle  again,  acknowledge  her  wilfulness,  and  beg  forgiveness 
for  her  bad  temper  and  her  wild  words.  But  these  occasions 
were  rare.  She  spent  the  whole  day  in  Mr.  Brinjes's  house — 
that  is,  when  she  was  not  in  one  of  her  restless  moods,  wander- 
ing over  Blackheath,  or  farther  afield,  in  the  woods  and  fields 
of  Eltham  or  Norwood.  More  than  once  she  spent  the  whole 
night  out,  returning  in  the  morning  spent  with  fatigue,  her  fury 
only  appeased  for  a  time  by  the  weakness  of  her  body.  As  for 
her  father,  she  neglected  him  altogether,  so  that  the  poor  man 
was  now  obliged  to  provide  his  own  meals,  sweep  and  keep 
clean  his  room,  and  make  his  own  bed.  "Yet,"  he  said,  "I 
dare  not  say  a  word  in  remonstrance  or  rebuke,  so  terrible  is 
her  temper,  in  which  she  now  seems  to  surpass  her  mother, 
though  I  confess  she  doth  not  beat  me  over  the  head  with  the 
frying-pan,  as  my  wife  was  wont  to  do.  Mr.  Brinjes,  before 
whom  I  have  laid  the  case,  advises  patience.  Well,  Mr.  Luke, 
I  am  a  patient  man.  Of  that  I  am  very  sure.  I  have  been 
patient  all  my  life — when  I  was  a  boy,  and  the  stronger  boys 
hectored  it  over  me ;  and  when  I  was  a  'prentice,  and  my  mas- 
ter half  starved  me ;  when  I  was  a  married  man,  and  my  wife 
scratched,  beat,  and  cuffed  me  daily  ;  and  now  when  my  daugh- 
ter is  grown  up.  It  is  not  recorded  of  the  Patriarch  Job  that 
his  wives  and  daughters  were  thus  ungoverned." 

Sometimes  she  would  speak  of  her  wrongs,  and  mostly  she 
was  grieved  because  Jack  laughed  at  her. 

"  If  he  were  dead,"  she  cried,  "  I  could  weep  for  him  all  the 
days  of  my  life,  thinking  he  loved  me  to  the  end.  Oh !  I  am 
a  fool  to  care  for  such  a  man  or  to  cry  over  him.  He  laughs 
at  me.  I  am  a  fool.  He  laughs  at  me.  Why  did  I  not  forget 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          301 

him  the  moment  his  ship  was  out  of  sight,  and  take  another 
sweetheart  ?" 

"  Pity,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  shaking  his  head — "  a  thousand 
pities  you  did  not." 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !"  she  turned  on  him  fiercely.  "  How 
dare  you  speak  ?  You  were  all  in  league  to  mock  at  me.  Why, 
'twas  thus  you  beguiled  the  poor  black  negro  girls,  you  and 
your  pirate  crew.  And  then  you  laughed  at  them." 

"  Faith,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  if  a  man  deserts  a  black  girl  she 
generally  murders  him  for  it." 

She  looked  at  him  strangely,  and  rushed  away,  saying  nothing. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  that  I  told  her  about  the 
negress's  revenge,  for  she  is  now  capable  of  everything ;  and 
perhaps  she  will  go  away  and  put  a  knife  into  his  heart."  This 
he  said  calmly,  as  if  murder  was  too  common  a  thing  to  sur- 
prise him.  "  There  was  once  a  girl — 'twas  at  Providence — 
whose  lover,  a  smart  fellow  too,  and  one  of  our  crew,  deceived 
her.  What  did  she  do  ?  Pretended  to  forgive  him,  passed  the 
thing  over,  treated  it  as  a  joke,  and  played  the  loving  sweet- 
heart to  the  life,  laughing  and  singing  while  she  served  up  the 
poisoned  meat  that  was  to  kill  him.  She  put  in  it  the  herb 
stramonium,  which  there  grows  wild ;  and  the  women  know  its 
properties  very  well.  She  laughed  the  louder  afterwards,  while 
he  twisted  and  rolled  on  the  ground  and  bellowed  in  his  agony. 
The  men  burned  her  alive  for  it,  because  this  was  an  example 
that  might  affect  them  all ;  but  she  cared  nothing  for  the  tor- 
ture, for  she  had  her  revenge ;  and  whatever  was  done  to  her 
afterwards,  nothing  would  hurt  her,  so  long  as  she  could  think 
of  that.  Look  you,  Bess  is  such  another  as  that  negro  girl. 
She  is  as  passionate,  and  she  is  as  jealous.  There  has  been 
murder  in  her  mind  ever  since  Jack  came  home.  I  have  read 
the  thought  in  her  eyes,  and  now  I  have  put  it  into  words  for 
her.  Trouble  will  come." 

It  was  not  this  crime  that  I  feared,  because  our  women  know 
not,  happily,  the  use  of  poisons ;  and  the  worst  among  them 
shrink  from  taking  life.  But  I  feared  that  she  might  rashly 
and  in  despair  kill  herself,  or  commit  some  act  of  violence  tow- 
ards Castillaif  she  suspected  that  Jack  was  paying  her  attentions, 
or  that  she  might  lose  her  reason  altogether.  And  indeed  in 
those  days  I'm  sure  she  was  partly  mad. 


302  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

You  shall  learn  what  she  did. 

First,  she  would  hear  from  her  former  lover's  own  lips  the 
sentence  of  her  dismissal.  She  would  read  her  fate  in  his  eyes. 
Therefore,  one  morning,  without  informing  any  one  of  her 
intention,  she  took  boat  and  was  carried  up  the  river,  and  so 
made  her  way  to  his  lodging  in  Ryder  Street.  No  neglect  of 
dress  could  hide  the  girl's  wonderful  beauty,  but  it  was  unfor- 
tunate, the  captain  being  now  daily  in  the  society  of  ladies  who 
omit  no  point  in  their  attire  which  may  help  to  enhance  their 
charms,  that  she  came  to  him  in  a  common  stuff  frock,  that  in 
which  she  was  accustomed  to  do  the  housework,  and  a  plain 
straw  hat,  so  that  she  looked  exactly  what  she  was,  the  daugh- 
ter of  some  tradesman  of  humble  station.  This,  I  say,  was 
unlucky  for  her.  Another  unlucky  thing  was  that  the  captain 
was  not  alone  in  his  lodging ;  and  it  shamed  him  that  a  girl  so 
common  in  her  dress  and  appearance  should  thus  present  her- 
self and  call  him  Jack,  and  remind  him  of  his  broken  vows. 
You  will  expect,  when  you  hear  that  Bess  found  a  lady  in  the 
room,  a  scene  of  mad  and  violent  jealousy.  But  nothing  of  the 
kind  happened.  And  yet  the  situation  was  one  which  might 
very  well  have  caused  a  jealous  woman  to  fly  out,  for  the  lady, 
who  was  none  other  than  the  Drury  Lane  actress,  was  sitting 
in  a  chair,  and  Jack  was  standing  over  her.  She  was  looking 
up  at  him,  with  her  merry,  laughing  eyes,  her  hair  curled  over 
her  forehead,  and  her  face  as  if  it  were  always  and  naturally 
bright  and  joyous  (this  thing  one  constantly  sees  in  women 
who  play  upon  the  stage,  though  I  know  not  why  they  should 
be  happier  than  other  folk).  Her  hood,  in  which  she  had  been 
wrapped,  and  her  domino  lay  upon  the  table,  and  she  was 
dressed  most  daintily  in  some  flowered  silk,  with  laced  petticoat 
and  kid  gloves.  Now,  like  a  true  woman,  Bess  no  sooner  saw 
this  finely  dressed  lady  than  she  began  to  think  with  shame  of 
her  own  common  frock,  her  hair  so  rough,  and  her  coarse  hands, 
and  to  wish  that  she  had  put  on  her  best  before  she  left  home. 
I  know  not  what  they  were  talking  about,  but  though  the  lady  was 
merry,  Jack  was  serious ;  to  be  sure,  he  never  passed  jests  with 
women,  and  was  not  even  as  a  boy  over-fond  of  laughing  with 
girls ;  perhaps — some  philosopher  hath  remarked — women  like 
best  the  men  who  treat  them  seriously,  and  as  if  every  interview 
with  them  gave  birth  to  what  the  French  call  a  grand  passion. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          303 

At  sight,  however,  of  Bess,  as  she  stood  in  the  open  door- 
way, Jack  started  and  stepped  forward  as  if  to  protect  his  vis- 
itor, with  a  round  quarter-deck  oath. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  ears !"  cried  the  actress ;  "  arc  we  on  board 
ship  already?" 

Then  she  marked  the  face  of  the  woman  at  the  open  door, 
and  there  was  something  in  her  eyes  and  attitude  which  made 
her  silent.  There  is  a  kind  of  despair  which  makes  itself  felt 
even  by  the  lightest.  This  woman  she  saw  had  a  pale  face  and 
large  black  eyes,  which  were  fixed  steadfastly  and  piteously 
upon  the  captain. 

"  Why  do  you  come  here  ?"  asked  Jack. 

"  I  came  to  see  you.  Oh,  Jack !"  she  gasped,  and  caught  at 
her  heart. 

"  I  have  sent  you  an  answer  already." 

"  I  have  come  to  hear  your  answer  from  your  own  lips,"  she 
replied,  with  trembling  voice. 

"Come,  Bess,"  he  said,  coldly,  but  not  unkindly,  "you  are 
a  foolish  girl ;  the  past  is  gone.  We  cannot  bring  back  again 
what  has  been.  Forget  it — and  me.  And  go  away.  This  is 
no  place  for  you." 

"  Forget  it  ?  You  think  I  can  forget  ?  Have  you  forgotten, 
Jack ;  tell  me,  have  you  forgotten  ?"  she  clasped  her  hands,  and 
threw  them  out  in  a  gesture  of  pain  and  trouble.  "  Oh  !  have 
you  forgotten — you  ?" 

"  I  have  quite  forgotten,"  he  replied.  "  Everything  has  clean 
gone  out  of  my  mind ;"  but  of  course  his  very  words  betrayed 
his  memory.  "  Of  course  I  remember  who  you  are.  Your 
father  taught  me  arithmetic  and  writing.  You  are  Bess  West- 
moreland. We  used  to  play  together  when  we  were  children. 
Then  I  went  away  to  sea,  and  I  remember  nothing  more." 

"  Nothing  more,"  she  murmured.  "  Oh  !  he  remembers  noth- 
ing more.  Oh  !  is  it  possible  ?  Can  he  forget  ?" 

The  actress  looked  on  with  grave  attention.  She  could  read 
the  story  without  being  told.  Partly  she  was  studying  a  delin- 
eation of  the  passion  of  disappointed  love,  rendered  better  than 
anything  she  had  ever  seen  upon  the  stage  ;  partly  she  was  filled 
with  pity.  An  ordinary  gentlewoman  would  have  felt,  as  Cas- 
tilla  feels,  that  such  a  girl  has  no  business  to  suppose  that  a 
gentleman  can  love  her,  the  thing  being,  in  her  opinion,  con- 


304  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

trary  to  nature.  But  the  actress  knew  better.  Besides,  she 
understood  that  beauty  is  not  altogether  a  matter  of  dress.  A 
woman  who  is  always  dressing  up  in  different  fashions  knows 
that  very  well. 

"  If  you  wish,"  Jack  went  on,  "  I  will  tell  you  something 
more  that  I  remember.  But  you  had  better  not  ask  me  to  tell 
you  that.  Best  to  go  away  now,  and  before  harder  things  are 
said." 

"There  can  be  no  harder  things  said.  Tell  me  what  you 
please." 

"  I  remember  a  young  girl  and  a  boy.  The  boy  had  been 
six  years  at  sea  and  among  savages,  and  knew  not  one  woman 
from  another.  So  he  thought  he  was  in  love  with  the  girl,  who 
was  no  proper  match  for  him.  And  when  he  had  been  at  sea 
again  for  six  weeks,  of  course  he  had  clean  forgotten  her." 

"  And  now  you  have  returned,  Jack  " — she  dragged  off  her 
hat,  and  her  beautiful  black  hair  fell  in  long  curls  upon  her 
shoulders — "  look  upon  me.  Am  I  less  beautiful  than  I  was  ? 
You,  woman  " — she  turned  fiercely  upon  the  actress — "  tell  me, 
you,  are  you  in  love  with  him  ?  No :  I  see  it  in  your  eyes ;  you 
do  not  love  him.  Then  you  will  speak  the  truth,  and  perhaps 
you  will  pity  me.  Tell  me,  then,  am  I  beautiful  ?" 

"You  are  a  very  beautiful  girl  indeed,"  said  the  Queen  of 
Drury  Lane.  "Upon  the  boards  you  would  be  a  dangerous 
rival.  Your  hair  and  eyes  are  splendid ;  your  shape  is  faultless. 
Unfortunately,  you  have  not  learned  to  dress." 

"  You  hear,  Jack,  what  this  lady,  who  is  not  in  love  with  you, 
says  of  me.  I  have  learned  things,  too,  since  you  went  away. 
I  am  no  longer  so  plain  and  rustic,  and —  Oh,  Jack !"  She 
threw  herself  at  his  feet,  regardless  of  the  other  woman.  She 
must  have  known  that  it  was  a  useless  humiliation,  yet  perhaps 
she  was  resolved  to  drink  the  cup  to  the  dregs.  "  Jack,  look 
upon  my  name  printed  upon  thy  arm ;  think  of  my  hair  tied 
about  thy  wrist;  think  of  all  thy  promises.  Jack,  think  of 
everything.  Oh,  Jack,  be  not  so  cruel !" 

Alas !  his  face  was  hard  and  cruel.  As  she  held  up  her  arms 
in  this  humility,  he  made  as  if  he  would  push  her  from  him, 
and  in  his  eyes,  once  so  soft  to  her  and  full  of  love,  she  read 
now  scorn  and  loathing. 

"  Go  !"  he  said.     "  You  have  had  my  answer." 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          305 

Then  she  rose  meekly,  and  drew  from  her  pocket  certain 
presents  he  had  given  her — a  necklace  of  red  coral,  a  packet 
of  ribbons,  a  roll  of  lace,  the  gloves,  a  broken  sixpence — and 
laid  them  on  the  table. 

"You  shall  have  again,"  she  said,  "all  that  you  have  ever 
given  me,  except  one  thing.  I  keep  your  letter  and  your  prom- 
ise. That  I  will  never  give  you  back  so  long  as  I  live.  I  know 
not  yet  what  I  shall  do.  I  know  not — "  She  grew  giddy,  and 
looked  as  if  she  would  fall,  but  presently  recovered,  and  with- 
out another  word  she  left  the  room. 

"  Are  there  many  such  girls  in  love  with  you,  Captain  Easter- 
brook  ?"  asked  the  actress.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but 
she  put  up  her  handkerchief.  "  Are  there  many  such  in  the 
world,  I  wonder?  They  come  not  to  this  end  of  town.  Do 
you  write  the  names  of  all  the  women  you  love  upon  your 
arms?  Then  they  will  be  a  pretty  sight  for  a  jealous  wife, 
Jack,  when  you  marry." 

"Let  her  go."  He  swept  the  poor  trifles,  mementoes  of 
bygone  love,  upon  the  floor.  "  Let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

"  She  is  a  very  beautiful  woman,"  the  actress  continued,  dis- 
regarding his  words.  "There  is  no  woman  now  upon  the 
boards  who  would  better  become  the  part  of  a  queen,  and  most 
certainly  none  who  could  better  act  the  part  she  has  just  played. 
'Twas  a  moving  situation,  captain,  though  it  moved  you  not. 
I  wonder  how  many  women's  hearts  thou  hast  broken,  Jack  ?" 

"Why,  if  we  come  to  questions,  I  wonder  how  many  men 
would  like  to  make  love  to  you,  fair  lady  ?" 

"  Captain  Easterbrook,  it  cannot  escape  your  penetration 
that  there  is  not  a  pretty  woman  in  the  world  to  whom  all  men 
would  not  willingly  make  love,  if  they  could.  As  for  con- 
stancy, they  laugh  at  it,  and  promises  they  despise  ;  they  tram- 
ple upon  the  hearts  of  the  foolish  women  who  love  them,  and 
they  consider  jealousy  in  a  woman  a  thing  past  comprehen- 
sion." She  laughed,  but  her  eyes  were  not  so  merry  as  when 
Bess  opened  the  door.  "  Well,  I  am  resolved  not  to  have  my 
heart  broken,  because  I  have  but  one,  and  if  it  chance  to  be 
broken,  I  doubt  if  I  could  piece  it  together  again.  Therefore, 
my  gallant  captain,  my  brave  Jack,  I  doubt  whether  it  were 
wise  of  me  to  come  here  any  more.  You  may,  if  you  please, 
come  to  my  suppers,  to  meet  my  lord  and  his  friends.  Look 


306  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

not  so  glum,  captain.  Well,  perhaps  I  may  see  tlice  once  more 
before  thy  ship  sails.  If  I  do,  promise  to  pretend  a  little  love 
for  this  unhappy  lovesick  nymph.  She  is  a  sea-nymph,  I  take 
it — one  of  those  whom  the  poets  call  naiads.  Comfort  her 
poor  heart  a  little,  and  perhaps  when  thou  art  gone  she  may 
very  likely  console  herself.  Alas !  always  one  loves  and  one  is 
loved." 

"  I  loved  her  once.     Can  she  expect — " 

"  Women  are  such  fond  creatures,  Captain  Easterbrook,  that 
they  are  not  even  contented  to  be  a  toy  for  a  month  or  two. 
As  for  me,  I  make  men  my  toys,  and  as  for  my  heart,  it  is  still 
mine  own.  Adieu,  thou  conqueror  of  women's  hearts  and  com- 
peller  of  women's  tears.  But,  Jack" — she  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  arm — "  look  that  this  poor  distracted  creature  doth  not  do 
a  mischief  to  thee  or  to  some  one.  There  was  madness  in  her 
eyes.  I  now  know  how  the  passion  of  jealousy  should  be  ren- 
dered. It  is  to  stand  so,  and  to  look  so,  and  thus  to  use  the 
hands."  She  lost  her  own  face,  and  became  Bess,  so  clever 
was  she  at  impersonation,  and  in  dumb-show  went  through  the 
pantomime  of  a  scorned  and  jealous  woman.  Then  she  put  on 
her  domino,  took  her  hood,  and  ran  down-stairs. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

HOW    CASTILLA    WAS    BETROTHED. 

I  DO  not  think  there  is  anything  in  this  history  more  dis- 
tasteful to  Castilla  than  a  certain  episode  in  it,  which  one  can- 
not choose  but  narrate.  To  omit  the  incident  would  be  the 
concealment  of  a  thing  which  clearly  shows  the  disposition  of 
our  hero  at  this  juncture  of  his  affairs,  when  all  seemed  pros- 
perous with  him,  but  when  his  fate  was  already  sealed,  and 
destruction  about  to  fall  upon  him. 

Castilla  reproaches  me  with  concealing  from  the  admiral  and 
her  mother  first  the  previous  engagement  with  Bess,  and  next 
the  acquaintance  of  the  captain  with  the  actress  of  whom  men- 
tion has  been  made,  and  declares  that  if  the  admiral  had  known 
it  he  would  have  forbidden  the  house  to  so  gay  a  Lothario. 
Castilla's  general  opinion  as  to  her  father's  character  is  doubt- 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          307 

less  correct ;  but  as  to  her  father's  conduct,  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, I  prefer  my  own  judgment.  Certain  I  am  that  if 
the  admiral  (now  in  Abraham's  bosom)  had  known  both  these 
facts — indeed,  I  am  sure  that  he  knew  a  good  deal  of  the  first — 
he  would  not  on  that  account  have  shut  Jack  out  of  the  house, 
nor  would  he  have  forbidden  him  to  pay  his  addresses  to  Cas- 
tilla. 

"  As  for  me,"  she  still  says,  indignant,  even  after  so  many 
years,  "  had  I  suspected  the  things  which  you  very  weU  knew 
at  the  time,  sir,  I  should  have  spurned  his  proposals.  I  have 
now  forgiven  him,  because,  poor  boy,  he  was  punished  for  his 
weakness  in  the  matter  of  that  witch  and  her  adviser,  the  apothe- 
cary, whom  I  believe  to  have  been  sold  to  the  devil.  I  forgive 
him  freely,  and  you  know,  Luke,  that  I  have  long  since  forgiven 
you  for  your  part  in  the  deception.  But  there  are  things  which 
can  never  be  forgotten,  though  they  be  forgiven." 

As  for  my  own  conduct  in  the  business,  I  know  not  why  I 
should  have  told  the  admiral,  or  Castilla  either,  that  a  cele- 
brated actress  and  toast  had  been  rescued  from  footpads  by 
Jack  Easterbrook;  that  he  supped  at  her  house  in  company 
with  other  gentlemen ;  and  that  she  visited  him  twice,  to  my 
knowledge,  in  his  own  lodging,  the  first  time  in  order  to  com- 
municate to  him  the  news  of  his  promotion,  and  the  second 
time — I  know  not  why.  I  was  not  a  spy  upon  Jack,  and  on 
reflection  I  think  that  if  the  thing  had  to  be  done  again  I  should 
behave  exactly  in  the  same  manner. 

Nor  do  I  know  why  I  should  have  warned  Castilla  about  the 
old  love  affair.  It  was  over  and  finished.  Surely  a  woman 
would  not  be  jealous  because  a  lad  of  nineteen  had  made  an 
imprudent  promise,  which  he  afterwards  broke,  or  because  he 
then  fell  in  love  with,  and  afterwards  ceased  to  love,  a  certain 
girl,  whether  below  or  above  his  own  rank  in  life.  To  be  sure, 
I  was  certain  that  some  trouble  would  happen,  though  of  what 
nature  I  knew  not. 

Suffice  it  to  say,  therefore,  that  I  heard  no  more  about  the 
actress,  but  that  Jack  came  often,  in  those  weeks  between  his 
appointment  and  his  sailing  orders,  to  the  admiral's,  and  that 
he  made  no  secret  to  me  of  his  passion  for  Castilla.  Also  he 
took  the  ladies  to  various  fashionable  places  of  resort  which 
they  had  never  before  seen,  because  there  was  no  one  to  take 


308  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

them.  Thus,  we  went  one  evening  to  Ranelagh,  where  there 
was  a  very  pretty  concert  in  the  round  room,  with  dancing 
afterwards,  and  a  great  crowd  of  ladies  beautifully  dressed, 
though  none  prettier  than  Castilla,  to  my  simple  taste.  And 
on  another  evening  we  went  to  Drury  Lane,  where  the  actress, 
Jack's  friend,  was  playing  the  principal  part ;  and  a  more  merry, 
light-hearted  creature  one  never  beheld  upon  the  stage.  I  ob- 
served that  Jack  showed  no  sign  of  any  acquaintance  with  her, 
but  discussed  her  performance  as  a  stranger  might  be  expected 
to  do,  calling  her  pretty  well  as  to  looks,  but  then  she  was 
painted  up ;  while  as  for  beauty,  give  him  blue  eyes  and  light 
hair,  at  which  Castilla  blushed.  And  so  home  by  moonlight, 
when  the  watermen  are  mostly  gone  to  bed,  and  the  river  is 
comparatively  quiet.  Castilla  sat  beside  Jack  in  the  boat,  and 
I  believe  he  held  her  hand. 

And  on  the  day  after  the  play  the  admiral  was  asked,  and 
gave  his  consent  to  his  daughter's  engagement  with  Jack.  He 
gave  it  with  a  livelier  satisfaction,  he  said,  than  he  had  felt  in 
any  previous  event  of  his  life.  "  Castilla,"  he  said,  "  this  is 
the  greatest  day  of  thy  life.  For  thou  art  promised  to  the 
most  gallant  officer  in  the  king's  navy.  I  say,  to  the  bravest 
and  the  comeliest  lad,  and  to  the  best  heart,  though  he  shirks 
the  bottle  and  leaves  me  to  finish  it.  If  thou  art  not  proud  of 
him,  thou  art  no  daughter  of  mine." 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  said  Castilla,  "  I  am  very  proud  of  him." 

Jack  threw  his  arms  round  her,  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks, 
and  on  the  forehead,  and  on  her  lips. 

I  say  no  more.  Castilla  declares  now  that  she  never  really 
loved  him,  though  she  confesses  that  she  was  carried  away  by 
so  much  passion  and  by  her  admiration  of  his  bravery.  Yet  I 
know  not.  He  was  a  masterful  man,  who  compelled  women  to 
love  him,  and  as  the  actress  said,  he  had  a  conquering  way  with 
him.  I  think  that  if  events  had  turned  out  otherwise,  Castilla 
would  have  become  a  loving  as  well  as  an  obedient  wife.  But 
let  that  pass.  They  were  engaged,  and  the  club  at  the  Sir  John 
Falstaff  had  a  roaring  night,  in  which  Mr.  Brinjes  heartily 
joined,  because  at  his  age  'twould  have  been  a  sin  to  suffer  the 
fear  of  approaching  disaster  to  stand  between  himself  and  a 
night  of  punch  and  singing  and  the  telling  of  sea  stories. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  309 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

HOW    PHILADELPHY    KEPT    THE    SECRET. 

WHEN  one  reflects  upon  this  time,  and  upon  the  conduct  of 
Jack  Easterbrook,  it  seems  as  if  at  each  successive  step  the  un- 
fortunate man  advanced  one  step  nearer  to  his  own  destruction. 
Surely,  knowing  the  grief,  the  resentment,  and  the  indignation 
which  filled  the  heart  of  the  woman  he  had  cast  aside  with  no 
more  consideration  than  if  she  had  been  a  hedge-row  weed,  he 
might  well  have  reflected  before  sending  her  intelligence  which 
was  certain  to  drive  her  into  despair.  But  such  as  he  do  never 
reflect. 

Therefore,  on  the  very  day  when  he  was  affianced  to  Castilla, 
he  took  the  surest  steps  to  make  Bess  acquainted  with  this  cer- 
tain proof  of  his  desertion ;  for  he  led  aside  the  old  negro  nurse, 
Philadelphy,  and  told  her  that  he  had  a  most  important  thing 
to  communicate,  and  one  which  very  much  concerned  her  own 
happiness,  and  a  thing  which  everybody  would  be  anxious  to 
know ;  but  that  it  was  a  profound  secret,  and  rnust  De  told  to 
no  one,  and  especially  was  not  to  be  communicated  to  any  per- 
son outside  madam's  household. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  you  desire  nothing  in  the  world  so 
much  as  the  happiness  of  your  young  mistress." 

That  she  assured  him,  truthfully,  was  the  case. 

"  So  that  I  am  certain  you  will  rejoice  when  I  tell  you  the 
secret.  Now,  Philadelphy,  what  should  you  say  if  Miss  Cas- 
tilla had  a  lover  ?" 

"  'Pends  on  de  young  gen'leman,  sah." 

"So  it  does.  You  are  always  wise,  Philadelphy.  What 
should  you  say,  then,  if  she  was  going  to  be  married  ?" 

"  'Pends  on  de  young  gen'leman,  sah." 

"You  are  indeed  a  wonderful  woman,  Philadelphy.  What 
should  you  think,  then,  if  I  were  going  to  be  that  happiest  of 
mortals,  Miss  Castilla's  husband  ?" 


310  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

The  old  woman  looked  at  him  admiringly.  Then  she  began 
to  laugh.  Negroes  are  easily  tickled  with  laughter ;  they  laugh 
if  any  one  is  hurt ;  they  laugh  if  misfortunes  fall  upon  their 
friends ;  and  when  they  are  pleased  they  laugh ;  Philadelphy 
therefore  laughed  for  satisfaction  and  joy,  not,  as  Sarai  of  old 
laughed,  in  derision. 

"  Is  dat  de  troof,  Massa  Jack  ?" 

"  It  is  the  truth,  Philadelphy." 

"  Ho  !  ho  !"  she  laughed  again.  "  Berry  fine  lover  for  Miss 
Castil.  Berry  fine  young  man  for  my  young  mistress." 

"  It  is  a  secret,  Philadelphy,"  he  told  her  again.  "  No  one 
knows  it  except  madam,  and  the  admiral,  and  Castilla,  and  me. 
You  have  been  told  first  of  all.  That  is  a  great  honor  for  you. 
But  it  is  a  secret  as  yet.  I  am  to  go  on  board  in  a  few  days, 
and  the  Lord  knows  when  I  shall  return.  So  while  I  am  away 
do  you  take  care  of  her,  and  put  in,  every  now  and  again,  a 
word  for  me — you  understand  ?" 

She  understood  very  well,  and  without  the  aid  of  the  two 
guineas  which  he  slipped  into  her  hand,  that  she  was  to  sing 
the  praises  of  a  certain  young  gentleman.  She  folded  the 
money  in  a  corner  of  her  handkerchief,  and  nodded  and 
laughed  again.  As  a  secret  messenger,  or  go-between,  I  think 
Philadelphy  would  have  had  no  equal.  Her  taste,  as  well  as 
her  genius,  lay  in  this  art ;  but  unfortunately  it  was  not  called 
into  practice,  because  Castilla  had  but  two  lovers,  one  of  whom 
she  lost  in  the  manner  you  are  going  to  hear,  and  the  other  she 
married  without  any  necessity  for  a  go-between  at  all. 

"  You  understand,"  Jack  repeated,  "  that  it  is  a  secret.  You 
are  not,  therefore,  on  any  account  to  tie  up  your  head  in  your 
red  turban  and  to  carry  the  news  into  the  town.  You  must  not 
think  of  telling  the  old  fellows  at  the  Trinity  Hospital.  You 
must  not  go  to  Mr.  Skipworth,  the  barber,  with  it ;  and  if  you 
tell  Mr.  Westmoreland,  the  penman,  or  his  daughter  Bess,  you 
will  make  me  angry.  I  quite  depend  upon  your  secrecy,  Phila- 
delphy." 

The  old  woman  nodded  and  laughed,  and  laughed  again, 
promising  that  nothing  should  drag  the  secret  from  her.  But 
when  the  captain  left  her,  she  hastened  to  tie  her  red  handker- 
chief round  her  head,  which  was  her  way  of  preparing  to  sally 
forth  from  the  house,  and  then  she  began  to  mutter  with  her 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          311 

lips.  Next  she  sat  down  and  laughed  again.  While  she  was 
laughing,  two  of  her  fellow  black  servants  came  upon  her ;  and 
being  of  a  quick  and  sympathetic  mind,  they  sat  down  and 
laughed  with  her,  all  three  rolling  about,  digging  their  hands 
into  their  sides,  and  laughing  in  each  other's  faces,  while  the 
tears  ran  down  their  cheeks.  When  they  were  quite  tired  of 
this  exercise,  they  left  off,  and  the  two  old  men  went  away 
about  their  own  business  without  so  much  as  asking  why  she 
had  set  them  off  into  this  mirthful  fit ;  and  the  old  woman,  set- 
ting her  turban  right,  walked  off  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the 
town. 

She  did,  in  fact,  as  Jack  fully  expected  she  would  do,  every- 
thing that  she  had  been  carefully  told  not  to  do.  First,  she 
looked  into  the  gateway  of  Trinity  Hospital.  On  the  sunny 
side  there  walked  half  a  dozen  of  the  old  men  warming  them- 
selves. She  exchanged  a  few  words  with  them,  admonishing 
them  to  keep  the  secret;  then  went  on  her  way.  Now  there 
are  no  more  ingrained  gossips  than  these  old  almsmen,  who 
have  nothing  to  do  all  day  long  except  to  tell  each  other  stories, 
for  the  most  part  old  and  well  worn,  and  to  retail  news.  There- 
fore, as  soon  as  Philadelphy  had  gone,  these  veterans,  one  after 
the  other,  left  the  hospital  and  made  their  way,  some  to  the 
Stairs,  and  some  to  the  taverns  in  the  town,  and  some  to  the 
dock-yard,  spreading  the  news,  for  there  was  no  officer  in  the 
king's  navy  better  known  than  Captain  Easterbrook,  whom  all 
regarded  as  a  Deptford  man,  and  greatly  respected  for  his  cour- 
age and  his  gallant  bearing.  Moreover,  he  had  among  them  all 
the  reputation  of  being  a  lucky  officer.  He  had  gone  through 
so  much  danger,  and  hitherto  had  so  miraculously  escaped  from 
every  kind  of  peril,  that  he  must  needs  be  a  lucky  officer  to  sail 
with.  And  now  he  was  going  to  take  command  on  board  as 
fine  a  frigate,  the  French-built  Calypso,  as  there  was  afloat,  and 
not  a  sailor  but  would  have  liked  well  to  sail  with  him. 

When  she  left  the  hospital,  Philadelphy  looked  into  the 
kitchen  of  St.  Paul's  Vicarage,  just  to  whisper  the  news  to  the 
maids.  Thence  she  went  on  her  way  to  the  barber's,  and,  call- 
ing Mr.  Skipworth  to  the  door,  she  imparted  the  news  to  him, 
with  many  injunctions  to  profound  secrecy,  which  he  faithfully 
and  joyfully  promised,  and  kept  his  promise  in  the  way  com- 
mon among  barbers,  namely,  that  he  passed  on  the  news  in 


312  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

strict  confidence  and  a  whisper  to  every  customer  in  turn  who 
came  to  be  shaved. 

Philadelphy  next  crossed  the  street  and  looked  in  at  the 
penman's.  Mr.  Westmoreland  was  in  the  shop,  writing  a  letter 
for  one  girl  to  her  sweetheart,  somewhere  at  sea,  while  another 
waited  her  turn.  In  the  corner  of  the  room,  beside  the  fire,  sat 
Bess,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  doing  nothing,  and  paying 
no  heed  to  what  went  on.  The  girls  disputed  what  should  be 
said ;  the  scribe  listened,  and  from  time  to  time  put  down  a 
sentence,  catching  at  their  meaning  rather  than  taking  down 
their  words. 

"  Say  I  keep  true  and  constant,"  said  one,  "  though  all  the 
men  in  Deptf ord  are  asking  me  to  give  him  up.  Tell  him  that. 
Tell  him  I  expect  as  much  from  him  when  he  comes  home — 
else,  he  shall  see.  And  if  he  dare  so  much  as  to  look  at — " 

"  I  wouldn't  tell  him  that,"  said  the  other  girl.  "  Tell  him 
that  nobody  in  the  town  cares  a  button  for  him,  or  even  thinks 
about  him,  but  yourself.  He'll  think  all  the  more  of  you  for 
that.  Don't  never  let  him  think  you  care  a  rope's-end  whether 
he  goes  after  the  other  women  or  not." 

Mr.  Westmoreland  went  on  writing  while  they  talked.  He 
civilized,  so  to  speak,  their  letters  for  the  ladies,  taking  out  the 
threats,  the  ejaculations,  the  accusations,  the  protestations,  and 
the  profane  words,  whereby  he  certainly  did  much  to  strengthen 
and  to  sanctify  the  bond  of  affection  between  the  sailor  and  his 
mistress,  since  a  lover  could  not  but  be  moved  at  receiving  a 
letter  so  movingly  and  so  religiously  expressed.  It  must  surely 
be  a  great  thing  for  a  man  to  think  of  his  sweetheart  as  a  quiet, 
sweet-tempered,  and  well-conducted  woman  (as  always  appeared 
from  these  letters),  capable  of  expressing  the  finest  sentiments 
in  the  choicest  language,  and  full  of  gentle  piety.  Pity  it 
was  that  when  the  men  came  home  their  mistresses  should 
always  fail  to  talk  and  to  behave  up  to  the  standard  of  their 
letters ! 

Without  troubling  herself  about  the  girls,  Philadelphy  took 
a  chair  beside  Bess,  and  began  to  whisper.  Now,  so  carefully 
had  Bess  kept  her  secret  that  no  one  in  the  place  knew  a  word 
about  it  except  Aaron  Fletcher,  and  for  reasons  of  his  own  he 
spoke  of  it  to  none.  Least  of  all  did  this  old  negro  woman 
suspect  it.  She  whispered  what  she  had  to  say,  and  then,  with 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  313 

a  hundred  nods  and  winks,  used  as  signs  of  mystery  and  secrecy, 
she  got  up  and  went  away. 

Bess  sat  still  awhile.  The  two  girls  finished  their  business 
with  her  father,  and  went  away.  Mr.  Westmoreland  looked 
timidly  at  his  daughter. 

"  Bess,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"  Is  there  any  chance  that  you  will  come  round  soon,  my 
dear?  I  wouldn't  hurry  any  woman's  temper  on  my  account, 
though  I  may  say  that  it  is  a  month  and  more  since  I  have  had 
any  dinner." 

"If  I  had  a  knife  in  my  hand  this  moment,"  she  cried, 
springing  to  her  feet  and  tossing  her  arms  in  the  air — "  if  I  had 
a  knife,  I  would  drive  it  into  my  heart — or  into  his !" 

Her  father  made  haste  with  trembling  knees  to  return  to  his 
writing. 

That  there  are  times  when  the  Evil  One  is  permitted  to  have 
power  over  us  we  are  well  assured,  not  only  from  Holy  Writ, 
but  from  the  teaching  of  learned  doctors.  I  say  not  that  we 
are  to  be  excused  from  the  consequence  of  sins  committed  dur- 
ing such  times,  because  it  is  on  account  of  our  sins  that  they 
are  permitted.  This  poor  girl,  I  am  very  certain,  was  possessed 
by  the  demons  of  jealousy,  rage,  and  despair.  Else  the  great 
wickedness  into  which  she  now  fell  would  never  have  been 
possible  to  her.  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  attempt  to  ex- 
cuse her !  But  this  day  she  was  mad.  On  this  day,  as  you 
will  presently  confess,  she  must  have  been  mad. 

She  continued  to  sit  in  the  same  place,  hands  clinched,  with 
set  eyes  gazing  straight  before  her,  and  cheeks  white.  From 
time  to  time  her  father  looked  furtively  round.  But  seeing  no 
change,  he  went  on  with  his  work.  Presently  he  became  afraid 
to  sit  alone  with  her.  He  thought  she  was  mad ;  he  feared 
that  she  might  get  up  suddenly  and  stab  herself  to  death,  or 
perhaps  stab  him  in  the  back.  He  was  never  a  brave  or  a 
strong  man,  and,  besides,  he  had  already  suffered  so  much  from 
feminine  wrath  that  he  considered  a  raging  woman  worse  than 
a  tigress,  and  would  cheerfully  have  fought  a  lion  in  the  arena 
rather  than  face  his  own  wife  in  one  of  her  angry  moods.  But 
he  had  never  before  seen .  Bess  so  bad  as  this.  It  wanted  a 
good  hour  of  his  usual  time  of  leaving  off  work,  but  he  got 
14 


314  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

down  from  his  stool,  changed  his  coat  hurriedly,  and  went  out 
to  his  tavern. 

If  he  went  there  an  hour  before  his  usual  time,  it  was  fully 
an  hour  after  his  usual  time  that  he  returned.  Bess  was  still 
in  her  chair,  but  she  no  longer  sat  upright,  scowling  and  fierce. 
Her  head  was  buried  in  her  hands,  and  she  was  weeping. 

Mr.  Westmoreland  was  afraid  to  speak  to  her.  He  crept 
silently  up-stairs,  and  went  to  bed  supperless. 

For  in  truth  something  very  strange  had  happened  between 
the  time  when  the  penman  laid  down  his  work  and  the  time 
when  he  came  home.  The  Jaws  of  Death  and  the  Gates  of 
Hell  had  been  opened. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

HOW    BESS    WENT    OUT    OF    HER   WITS. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  her  father  had  left  the  house — perhaps 
he  waited  until  the  penman's  departure — a  man  came  to  the 
door  and  stood  without.  For  a  few  moments  he  watched  and 
listened.  Then  he  pushed  the  door  open  and  looked  in.  The 
room  was  dark,  and  he  could  see  nothing. 

"  Bess,"  he  cried — it  was  Aaron  Fletcher — "  Bess,  I  know 
you  are  here,  and  it  is  no  use  hiding.  Come  out  this  instant 
and  talk  with  me,  or  I  will  come  in." 

There  was  no  answer,  and  he  stepped  into  the  room. 

"  You  can  go  out  again,  Aaron,"  said  Bess.  "  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say  to  you." 

"  I  will  go  out  when  I  have  said  what  I  came  to  say,  and  not 
before,"  he  replied.  "  If  you  will  listen,  Bess,  I  have  a  good 
deal  to  say." 

"  Say,  then,  what  you  have  to  say,  and  be  gone."  He  hardly 
knew  her  voice,  which  was  hard.  "Of  course  I  know  very  well 
what  you  have  come  to  say.  When  you  have  said  it  once,  you 
can  go.  If  you  dare  to  say  it  twice,  I  think  I  shall  have  to  kill 
you.  But  before  you  take  the  trouble  to  say  it,  or  anything 
else,  I  tell  you  that  it  is  no  use.  There  is  no  man  in  the  world 
for  me  now.  Don't  think  of  trying." 

"  Bess" — the  man  understood  what  she  meant — "  d'ye  think 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  315 

that  I  would  come  to  crow  over  your  trouble  ?  Why —  But 
you  don't  understand ;  you  never  did  understand.  A  man  as 
loves  you  true  can't  choose  but  be  sorry  for  your  trouble.  I 
love  you  that  true  that  I  should  even  like  to  see  you  married 
to  him,  if  he  would  have  you.  But  he  won't — he  won't.  Don't 
go  to  think  now,  Bess,  that  I'm  glad ;  though  I  always  knew 
what  would  happen,  and  I  hoped  that  you  would  perhaps  throw 
him  over  and  take  a  better  man,  and  then  we  might  have  seen 
him  crying  and  lamenting  instead  of  you.  Pluck  up  spirit, 
Bess.  Curse  him.  With  his  head  in  the  air,  and  his  step  as 
if  he  was  on  his  quarter-deck,  and  us  men  were  all  his  crew, 
and  you  women  were  all  for  his  own  pleasure !  Curse  him,  I 
say,  for  a  villain  !  He  went  through  the  town  just  now  dressed 
as  if  he  was  a  nobleman  at  least,  with  the  people  crying  after 
him  for  luck,  and  the  fools  of  women  calling  blessings  on  his 
head  for  a  handsome  man,  if  ever  there  was  one.  Curse  him ! 
Bess,  why  don't  you  curse  the  man  who  has  played  you  false  ? 
Hast  never  a  tongue  in  thy  head  ?" 

It  was  too  dark  to  discern  her  face ;  otherwise  Aaron  might 
have  been  well  pleased  with  the  jealous  madness  which  filled 
her  eyes. 

Then  he  cursed  the  captain  again,  and  with  stronger  words, 
but  she  answered  nothing. 

"  I  knew  what  he  would  do.  I  always  knew  it.  I  hate  him, 
Bess.  I  have  always  hated  him  as  much  as  you  hate  him  now ; 
or  almost  as  much,  because  you  must  hate  him,  after  all  he  has 
done,  so  that  there  is  no  evil  you  would  not  rejoice  to  see  fall- 
ing upon  him." 

He  paused  for  some  effect  to  be  produced  by  his  words,  just 
as  an  angler  throws  his  line  and  stops  to  watch  his  float.  But 
Bess  made  no  sign. 

"  Who  is  he  ?"  Aaron  went  on.  "  Who  is  he  that  he  should 
have  all  the  good  luck  and  I  should  have  the  bad  ?  Why,  when 
he  came  to  the  town  he  was  in  rags.  I  saw  him  come.  He 
was  a  boy  in  rags.  And  now  he  is  a  captain,  with  a  gold-laced 
hat ;  and  I —  Well,  Bess,  I  am  a  bankrupt.  That  is  what  I 
have  come  to.  And  it  is  through  him !  Yes,  through  him  and 
through  that  one-eyed  devil,  who  is  Old  Nick  himself,  or  sold 
to  him,  I  am  a  bankrupt — I  am  broke !  First,  through  him,  I 
lost  my  boat,  the  Willing  Mind,  took  by  a  privateer ;  and  then, 


316  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

through  him,  I  lost  the  prize-money  I  looked  to  make ;  and  then, 
through  him,  my  building-yard  was  burned.  And  now  I  have 
spent  all  my  money,  Bess,  and  am  broke.  And  all  through 
him !  I  will  be  even  with  him,  some  day,  if  I  swing  for  it." 

"  Say  what  you  have  to  say,  Aaron,  and  go  away." 

"  I  came  to  say,  then,  Bess  " — he  lowered  his  voice — "  will 
you  have  revenge  ?" 

"  What  revenge  ?" 

"  I  tried  to  take  it  for  myself  three  years  ago.  Did  he  never 
tell  you  who  got  him  knocked  o'  the  head  and  carried  off  to 
the  crimps  ?  'Twas  the  sweetest  moment  of  my  life  when  he 
lay  senseless  at  my  feet.  I  done  it,  Bess.  'Twas  none  but  me. 
He  got  off  that  time.  He  won't  this." 

"Revenge?  Do  you  think  I  will  let  you  take  revenge  for 
me?" 

"Bess  —  think!  He  hath  deserted  you,  and  broken  his 
promise.  And  me  he  has  brought  to  beggary,  with  the  help 
of  his  friend  the  devil  with  one  eye." 

"  I  will  have  no  revenge  taken  for  me,  I  say.  Go,  Aaron. 
If  that  is  all  you  have  to  say,  go,  and  leave  me  alone.  Revenge 
will  not  bring  back  his  heart  to  me.  He  loathes  me  now  as 
much  as  once  he  loved  me.  I  saw  it  in  his  eyes.  Will  re- 
venge change  his  eyes  ?  There  is  nothing  for  me  but  to  bear 
it  till  I  die." 

Aaron  sat  down  on  the  table.  The  tempter  to  evil  was  not 
to  be  sent  away  by  a  single  word. 

"What!"  he  asked.  "A  woman  of  spirit,  and  do  nothing, 
though  her  sweetheart  proves  false  to  her,  and  mocks  and 
laughs  at  her !  Have  they  told  you  how  he  laughs  everywhere 
about  you  ?"  (This  was  a  lie  ;  Jack  never  spoke  about  her 
among  his  friends.)  "  Why,  the  gentlemen  all  do  it ;  they 
make  bets  with  each  other  about  such  girls  as  you;  and 
then  they  go  away  and  tell  each  other,  and  laugh  about  her. 
Oh,  you  forgive  him !  'Tis  sweet  Christian  conduct.  I  sup- 
pose I  should  forgive  him  as  well  for  the  loss  of  the  Willing 
Mind  and  the  burning  of  my  boat-yard  ?"  He  stopped  to  see 
if  his  words  had  produced  any  effect  upon  her,  but  she  gave 
no  sign.  "  You  will  dance  at  his  wedding,  I  dare  say.  He  is 
going  to  marry  the  daughter  of  the  admiral — him  with  the 
wooden  leg." 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         31 7 

"  He  is  not  married  yet." 

"  He  is  going  to  be  married,"  said  Aaron — but  this  was  also 
a  lie — "  by  special  license,  and  without  banns,  to-morrow  ;  for 
his  ship  is  under  orders,  and  the  captain  will  set  sail  in  a  few 
days.  He  wants  to  be  married  before  he  goes.  "Tis  a  pretty 
little  lady,  and  he  will  make  her  happy.  They  say  he  is  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  her,  and  nothing  too  good  for  her.  I 
dare  say  he  was  always  a  fond  lover.  You  found  him  a  fond 
lover,  didn't  you,  Bess,  in  the  old  days  ?" 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  asked.  "Oh!  the  old  woman  did 
not  tell  me  this.  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  To-morrow  ?  He  will 
marry  her  to-morrow  ?  So  soon  !  Oh !  is  there  no  hope  left 
at  all?" 

"  The  negro  woman  went  about  the  town  to-day  telling  every- 
body. You  can  ask  her  if  it  is  true.  What  do  I  know  ?  The 
captain  was  not  likely  to  tell  me,  was  he  ?  Well,  Bess,  it  must 
be  a  pleasant  thing  for  you  to  be  thinking  that  his  arms  are 
now  round  her  neck,  which  used  to  be  round  yours.  He  is 
kissing  her  red  and  white  cheek  now,  just  as  he  used  to  kiss 
yours,  in  the  old  days  when  he  used  to  make  a  fool  of  you. 
And  to-morrow  he  will  be  happy  with  his  bride.  That  is  some- 
thing to  make  you  feel  forgiving  and  well-wishing,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh!  I  shall  go  mad!"  she  cried.  "I  cannot  bear  it;  I 
shall  go  mad." 

"  To  be  sure,  there  are  differences.  She  is  a  gentlewoman, 
and  you  are  only  a  tradesman's  daughter.  She  is  soft,  and 
has  pretty  manners,  I  dare  say,  though  her  father  is  an  old  salt. 
Whatever  you  are,  Bess,  no  one  ever  called  you  soft.  She  is 
fair,  and  you  are  dark.  She  loves  him,  I  dare  say,  better  than 
you  ever  could.  She  can  wear  a,  hoop,  and  carry  a  fan,  and 
paint  her  face;  and  as  for  you,  Bess —  Why,  what  is  the 
matter  ?" 

"  I  will  kill  him  first !"  she  cried,  wildly.  "  Aaron,  I  will  kill 
him  with  my  own  hand !" 

"  Nay,  Bess,  why  with  your  own  hand,  when  there  is  mine 
ready  for  your  service  ?  And  as  for  that,  you  are  in  such  a 
rage  that  you  would  surely  bungle  it ;  ten  chances  to  one  you 
would  botch  and  bungle  it.  Now  I  am  calm.  If  I  take  it  in 
hand,  I  shall  make  as  pretty  a  job  of  it  as  any  one  can  desire. 
Besides,  Bess,  if  any  one  is  to  swing  for  putting  such  a  villain 


318  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

out  of  the  way,  it  shall  be  me,  not  you,  my  girl.  For  love  of 
you,  and  hate  of  him,  I  should  be  content  to  swing.  But  may- 
be— Why,  Bess— " 

"  Aaron  "  (she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  catching  her 
breath  short),  "  oh !  I  would  rather  see  him  dead  and  in  his 
grave  than  let  him  marry  her." 

"  He  must  be  dead  to-night,  then,  or  he  will  marry  her  to- 
morrow. Hark  ye,  Bess :  the  time  has  gone  for  crying.  We 
must  do  it  at  once — this  very  night.  To-morrow  he  will  be 
married.  The  next  day,  or  the  day  after,  he  takes  the  com- 
mand of  his  ship.  This  very  evening  he  hath  gone  to  the  club 
with  the  admiral.  He  will  but  drink  a  single  glass  of  punch 
with  the  gentlemen,  who  will  wish  him  joy,  and  will  then  re- 
turn to  his  new  mistress,  with  whom  he  thinks  to  spend  the 
evening,  kissing  and  making  love.  Do  you  mark  my  words  ?" 

"  Yes — yes — I  am  listening." 

"  In  half  an  hour  or  so  he  will  be  returning  by  this  road. 
Suppose,  Bess,  he  should  meet  us  on  the  way — the  woman  he 
has  deserted,  and  the  man  he  has  ruined  ?" 

"  Let  us  go,"  she  cried ;  "  let  us  go  at  once.  He  shall  never 
marry  her.  Let  us  go !  Why,  Aaron,  are  you  for  hanging 
back?" 

"There  is  time  enough — no  hurry.  See,  my  girl,  I  have 
brought  with  me — 'tis  all  I  have  left  of  my  privateering — a 
pair  of  ship's  pistols."  He  lugged  them  out  of  his  pockets, 
and  laid  one  on  each  leg,  still  sitting  on  the  table.  "  They  are 
loaded ;  I  loaded  them  half  an  hour  ago — a  brace  of  bullets  in 
each,  and  the  flints  are  new.  No  hurry,  Bess.  Let  us  con- 
sider." She  was  already  more  than  half  mad,  but  he  thought 
to  madden  her  still  more.  "  Let  us  consider.  All  the  world 
knows  thy  history,  Bess."  This  too  was  a  lie,  because  no  one 
knew  it.  "  When  you  go  forth  again  the  women  will  point 
and  say  after  you, '  There  goes  the  girl  who  thought  to  marry 
the  handsome  captain !  There  goes  Bess,  who  thought  to  be 
the  wife  of  Captain  Easterbrook !  Pride  goes  before  a  fall. 
Now  she  will  have  to  marry  some  honest  tarpaulin,  like  the 
rest,  if  any  be  found  to  have  her.'  'Tis  a  hard  fate,  Bess. 
Whereas—" 

"  Aaron,  let  us  go.     Quick !  quick !     Give  me  the  pistols." 

"  Nay,  nay.     You  to  have  the  pistols !"  he  replied,  in  no 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  319 

hurry,  and  still  trying  to  madden  her.  "  Whereas,  if  we  take 
care  that  he  shall  marry  no  one,  they  cannot  cry  out  after  you, 
and  he  shall  not  have  another  wife." 

"  I  would  rather  he  were  dead,"  she  said.  "  Aaron,  let  me 
kill  him  with  my  own  hand !" 

"  Will  you  come  for  me  ?" — he  put  up  his  pistols — "  or  will 
you  stay  with  me?  'Tis  but  five  minutes'  walk  to  the  dark 
place  in  the  road  where  we  stopped  him  once  before.  But 
come  with  me.  If  you  stay  here,  you  will  know  nothing  till  I 
come  back,  when  the  job  is  done.  If  you  come  with  me,  you 
shall  see  it  done.  Why,  your  revenge  will  be  doubled  if  you 
stand  by  and  see  it  done.  And  when  he  falls,  Bess,  cry  out 
quick  that  it  was  thy  doing.  So  in  his  last  moments  he  shall 
feel  that  thou  hast  revenged  thyself." 

"  Come — quick — before  I  repent.  Let  us  kill  him  quickly. 
Oh,  Aaron,  I  am  all  on  fire.  I  burn.  Come." 

Aaron  nodded  his  head,  and  leisurely  rose,  satisfied  at  length 
with  the  spirit  of  murder  which  he  had  called  up.  It  made 
her  pant  and  gasp  and  tear  at  his  arm  to  drag  him  along. 

"  One  word  first,"  he  said.  "  I  am  not  going  to  do  all  this 
for  nothing.  When  the  job  is  done,  Bess,  you  will  marry 
me." 

"  Yes.  You  may  marry  me,  or  you  may  murder  me.  I  care 
nothing  which.  Oh,  he  shall  never  marry  her — never  !  Come, 
Aaron,  come.  We  shall  be  too  late." 

I  say  that  she  was  mad.  It  could  not  be  in  any  other  mood 
but  madness  that  Bess  would  become  a  murderess.  Truly 
Aaron  was  a  crafty  and  cunning  man,  thus  to  turn  her  thoughts 
to  revenge,  and  to  make  a  murder  done  for  private  wrongs — 
but  did  Jack  set  fire  to  his  boat-yard,  or  take  the  Willing 
Mind  ? — seem  as  if  it  were  a  righteous  act  of  retribution  for 
her  sake.  Why  could  he  not  murder  his  enemy  without  drag- 
ging Bess  into  the  crime  with  him  ?  I  know  not ;  but  I  sup- 
pose that  he  thought  to  bind  her  to  him  by  the  guilty  secret 
which  the  two  would  have  between  them,  as  if  the  knowledge 
would  not  keep  them  apart :  for,  with  such  a  secret,  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  world  should  not  be  wide  enough  to  keep  the 
two  asunder.  But  it  is  impossible  so  much  as  to  guess  at  the 
secrets  of  Aaron's  mind  at  such  a  moment.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain, that,  like  Bess,  he  was  driven  well-nigh  desperate  by  his 


320  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

misfortunes,  which,  however,  he  was  not  justified  in  laying  on 
the  captain.  Perhaps  he  had  no  thought  at  the  time,  except 
revenge,  and  no  other  desire  than  to  gratify  Bess — whom  still, 
I  believe,  he  loved,  after  his  manner — and  himself  in  the  same 
manner  and  at  a  single  blow. 

"  Come,"  he  said. 

Then  he  directed  her  to  go  on  in  advance,  so  that  if  any  one 
should  pass  her  on  the  road  they  might  not  connect  him  with 
her  as  a  companion,  and  ordered  her  to  wait  for  him  in  that 
place  where  the  grass  strip  broadened  into  a  little  road-side 
green  planted  full  of  trees.  Here  she  was  to  await  him. 

'Twas  the  same  place  where,  three  years  before,  Aaron  had 
made  his  first  attempt,  the  failure  of  which  might  have  deterred 
him,  one  would  think.  But  it  did  not.  Here  he  presently 
joined  the  girl. 

"  No  one  is  abroad,"  he  said.  "  I  have  passed  none  upon 
the  road.  That  is  well.  Heart  up,  Bess.  In  a  few  minutes 
thou  shalt  be  happy,  if  revenge  can  make  thee  happy.  He  will 
kiss  his  fine  mistress  no  more." 

"  Happy  !  There  is  no  more  happiness  for  me.  Oh,  Aaron, 
quick ! — do  what  thou  hast  to  do  quick,  lest  I  repent  and  stop 
thee.  Oh,  Jack — my  Jack  ! — must  I  murder  thee  ?" 

"  Keep  dark,"  said  Aaron.  "  Why,  you  are  losing  heart  al- 
ready. I  am  sorry  you  came  with  me.  Keep  dark,  I  say,  and 
look  not  forth  until  the  shot  is  fired.  As  for  me,  I  scorn  to 
hide.  I  am  here  to  kill  him  if  I  can,  or  let  him,  if  he  can,  kill 
me.  He  has  a  sword,  and  I  have  my  pistols.  Let  him  fight  it 
out.  It  is  a  fair  battle  between  us.  But  keep  back,  Bess,  and 
keep  dark.  I  think  I  can  hear  his  footstep." 

When,  three  years  before,  Jack  Easterbrook  had  walked 
along  the  same  road  at  the  same  time,  his  head  was  full  of  love 
for  the  very  woman  who  now  stood  in  the  shade  of  the  trees 
waiting  to  see  him  done  to  death.  From  the  madness  of  jeal- 
ous women,  good  Lord,  deliver  the  men !  And  from  the  incon- 
stancy of  perjured  lovers,  good  Lord,  deliver  the  women  I 

As  she  stood  and  listened,  the  sound  of  his  footstep — she 
could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  step — fell  upon  Bess's  ear,  and 
immediately  the  captain  himself  was  to  be  plainly  seen  in  the 
twilight  walking  briskly  along  the  road.  As  for  Aaron,  in 
spite  of  his  brave  words,  he  kept  in  the  shade  of  the  trees, 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          321 

feeling,  doubtless,  as  is  the  way  with  murderers,  more  confi- 
dence while  in  hiding  than  in  the  open. 

Before  she  heard  his  footstep,  the  poor  girl,  the  prey  of  all 
the  evil  passions,  stood  breathing  quickly,  her  hands  clinched, 
burning  with  rage,  and  mad  for  revenge.  Yet  mark  what  hap- 
pened. At  the  very  first  footfall,  at  the  first  sound  of  the  step 
which  still  she  loved,  the  whole  of  her  madness  fell  from  her 
as  a  woman's  cloak  may  fall  from  her  shoulders;  her  heart 
stood  still,  her  knees  trembled,  and  her  love  went  out  again  to 
him.  Also  she  saw — now  was  not  this  a  thought  sent  to  her 
direct  from  Heaven's  throne  of  Mercy  in  order  to  save  a  poor 
sinner  from  a  dreadful  crime  ? — she  saw,  I  say,  in  imagination, 
Her  lover  lying  dead  upon  the  ground,  his  pale  face  turned  up 
to  the  stars,  never  to  come  back  to  life  again,  and  she  herself 
standing  over  him — who  had  murdered  him.  Already  she  felt 
upon  her  forehead  the  seal  of  murder  as  it  was  placed  upon 
the  front  of  Cain.  Already  she  felt  the  terrible  remorse  of 
murder.  Near  every  crime  can  be  atoned  for,  except  murder. 
You  may  rob  a  man ;  you  may  slander  him  ;  things  stolen  may 
be  replaced ;  things  said  may  be  withdrawn ;  but  his  life  you 
cannot  restore  to  a  man.  Therefore  there  is  no  crime  so  dread- 
ful as  murder,  and  no  remorse  so  fearful  as  that  of  a  murderer, 
even  when  his  conscience  is  as  hardened  as  that  of  Aaron 
Fletcher  himself.  "  Oh !"  Bess  told  me  afterwards,  though 
the  poor  girl  knew  not  how  to  put  all  these  her  thoughts  into 
words,  but  could  only  speak  of  them  brokenly,  "  I  thought  that 
if  he  were  to  die,  I  must  die  too,  and  that  with  no  hope  of  for- 
giveness, so  that  I  should  never  sit  beside  him  in  heaven,  and 
never  ask  his  mercy.  And  I  saw  that  if  he  would  leave  me, 
he  must ;  and  oh  !  how  could  I  be  so  wicked  ?  How  could  I  ? 
No ;  it  was  not  Aaron's  fault ;  'twas  my  own  mad,  jealous 
heart." 

There  wanted  but  a  moment  when  Aaron  would  have  stepped 
out  and  discharged  his  pistols.  There  was  no  relenting  in  him ; 
he  had  no  qualms  of  conscience  and  no  forebodings  of  remorse. 
He  had  lost  everything — his  sweetheart,  his  boat,  his  business, 
his  fortune — by  this  man,  he  thought ;  'twas  little  revenge  in- 
deed in  return  for  so  much  injury,  to  kill  him.  Perhaps  after- 
wards, with  the  gibbet  in  sight  and  the  irons  on  his  legs,  he 
might  have  felt  remorse.  But  one  doubts,  seeing  how  hard- 
14* 


322  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

ened  are  most  of  the  villains  who  go  forth  to  Tyburn  to  the 
fatal  tree,  and  how  little  true  repentance  the  ordinary  doth  wit- 
ness. 

He  was  waiting,  then,  the  pistol  cocked.  His  enemy  was  al- 
most within  his  reach,  when  Bess  rushed  out  from  her  hiding- 
place,  crying,  "  Jack !  Jack !  Save  yourself  !  Save  yourself !" 

He  stopped  and  drew  his  sword. 

"  Fly,"  she  cried.  "  Aaron  is  among  the  trees  with  his  pis- 
tols. We  came  to  murder  thee.  Oh !  fly  for  thy  life.  Let 
him  kill  me  instead.  He  shall  shoot  at  thee  through  my 
body." 

She  stood  before  him,  her  arms  out  as  if  to  stop  the  pistol 
bullet. 

"  Stand  aside,  Bess,"  said  Jack.  "  Now,  Aaron,  ye  cowardly, 
skulking  dog,  come  out !  Show  yourself,  man !  Bring  out 
your  pistols,  I  say  !  Come,  ye  sneaking,  murdering  villain !" 

Aaron  might  have  shot  him  on  the  spot  where  he  stood, 
breast  bared,  so  to  speak,  for  the  pistol.  But  he  did  not,  be- 
cause so  great  is  the  power  of  authority  over  such  men  as 
Aaron,  when  one  speaks  who  is  in  the  habit  of  command,  that 
he  obeyed  and  came  forth  meekly,  his  pistols  in  his  hand,  like 
a  dog  who  comes  at  call  to  be  whipped. 

"  Lay  down  your  weapons,"  said  Jack,  sword  in  hand. 

Aaron  obeyed,  saying  nothing. 

"  So,"  said  the  captain,  "  this  is  now  the  second  time  that 
thou  hast  attempted  my  life.  Man,  if  I  had  thee  on  board  my 
ship  I  would  keel-haul  thee,  or  maybe  hang  thee  for  mutiny. 
Know,  sirrah,  that  the  mere  conspiring  to  murder  hath  brought 
many  a  poor  rogue  to  the  gallows.  Now  I  know  not  wherefore 
thou  didst  resolve  to  make  this  second  attempt.  Remember, 
however,  that  the  first  score  is  not  yet  paid  off.  Yet  I  heard 
some  talk  of  losses  and  the  burning  of  boat-yards,  whereby  it 
seems  as  if  some  greater  Power  had  interfered  to  punish  thee. 
Go  now.  Perhaps  to-morrow  I  shall  determine  what  further  may 
be  done." 

Aaron  obeyed,  walking  away  slowly  and  sullenly,  the  pistols 
lying  on  the  ground. 

Then  Jack  turned  to  the  girl  who  had  saved  his  life.  "  So, 
Bess,"  he  said,  "  you  came  out  to  murder  me,  did  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  confessed. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          323 

"  I  was  in  hopes  that  you  had  laid  my  words  to  heart,  and 
had  forgotten  the  past." 

"  I  can  never  forget  the  past.  Oh,  Jack !  'tis  too  much  to 
ask  of  any  poor  woman.  'Tis  too  much !"  She  burst  into 
weeping.  "  Oh !  I  am  an  unhappy  wretch,  who  would  even 
murder  the  man  I  love  better  than  all  the  world." 

"  Nay,"  said  Jack,  "  there  is  no  harm  done,  because,  d'ye  see, 
I  am  unhurt,  and  you  changed  your  intention  in  time.  If  I  did 
not  know  thee  better,  Bess,  I  might  think  this  was  a  trick  of 
thine.  But  Aaron  hates  me  of  old ;  and  you — since  I  came 
home." 

"  I  have  never  hated  you,  Jack.  God  knows  I  wish  I  was 
dead,  and  out  of  your  way." 

"  My  poor  girl,  you  are  already  out  of  my  way,  if  you  would 
only  think  so.  For  the  sake  of  a  few  love-passages,  three  years 
ago,  why  waste  and  spoil  your  life  ?" 

"  I  cannot  take  back  what  I  have  given.  To-night  they  told 
me  that  you  are  to  marry  Miss  Castilla.  That  made  me  mad. 
But  I  am  not  mad  any  longer.  Go  to  your  new  mistress,  Jack. 
I  will  give  you  no  more  trouble — no  more  trouble.  Make  love 
to  her  as  you  did  to  me.  Tear  her  heart  out  of  her  as  you  tore 
mine.  I  will  give  you  no  trouble  at  all — no  trouble  at  all.  I 
will  not  try  to  stand  between  her  and  you." 

"  Foolish  girl !     Forget  me,  Bess,  and  find  another  lover." 

"  I  have  tried  to  curse  thee,  Jack,  but  I  cannot.  Oh,  I  can- 
not !  I  have  tried  a  dozen  times.  My  lips  will  not  form  the 
words,  nor  would  my  heart  mean  them  if  I  could  say  those 
words.  I  have  tried  this  night  to  kill  thee.  But  I  could  not. 
Therefore  it  is  certain  that  I  am  not  to  do  thee  any  harm.  This 
is  better,  because,  whatever  happens,  thy  heart  will  not  be 
thereby  the  more  hardened  against  me." 

Jack  made  no  reply.  Perhaps  he  was  touched  by  what  she 
said. 

"  Go,  Jack.  Go  to  thy  mistress."  This  she  said,  not  rudely 
or  scornfully,  but  quietly.  "  Jack,  I  know  now  what  has  been 
lying  in  my  mind.  It  is  that  I  have  a  message  for  thee.  It  is 
that  God  HIMSELF  will  punish  thee,  and  that  in  the  way  that 
will  touch  thee  the  deepest.  I  know  not  how  that  will  be,  and 
for  myself  I  desire  no  harm  for  thee.  I  will  henceforth  neither 
speak  nor  think  hard  things  of  thee.  But  remember :  no  other 


324  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

man  shall  ever  kiss  me,  because  I  am  thine,  Jack — I  belong  to 
thee.  Oh,  Jack,  my  sweetheart,  my  love,  God  HIMSELF  will 
punish  thee,  unhappy  boy,  and  that  in  the  way  that  will  most 
touch  thee." 

Jack  laughed  lightly — yes,  he  laughed — and  went  his  way. 

This  is  what  happened  between  the  time  when  the  penman 
left  his  daughter  and  the  time  when  he  returned.  Said  I  not 
that  the  Jaws  of  Death  and  the  Gates  of  Hell  were  opened  on 
this  night  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOW    BESS    RECOVERED    HER   SENSES. 

WOMAN  is  a  variable  and  a  changeable  creature.  Many  poets 
and  philosophers  have  insisted  upon  this  maxim.  Mr.  West- 
moreland, as  well  as  Socrates,  had  good  reason  to  feel  the  truth  of 
it,  and  could  testify  to  it  from  his  own  experience,  under  the  rule 
of  wife  first,  and  of  daughter  afterwards ;  though  the  capricious 
nature  of  the  latter  empress  was  a  kind  of  heaven  compared 
with  the  clapper-clawings,  rubs,  and  buffets  which  marked  the 
reign  of  the  former.  The  next  morning  the  penman  came  down- 
stairs meekly  resigned  to  do  the  daily  necessary  housework, 
which  his  daughter  should  have  done — namely,  to  lay  his  desk 
in  order  for  the  day's  work,  find  something  for  breakfast,  and, 
towards  the  hour  of  noon,  interrupt  his  calculations  in  order  to 
prepare  dinner  of  some  kind ;  which  had  been  his  lot  for  the 
last  two  months ;  in  fact,  though  he  had  not  the  wit  to  connect 
the  two  events,  ever  since  the  return  of  the  lieutenant  on  board 
the  French  prize.  He  was  therefore  truly  astonished  when  he 
saw  that  the  room  was  already  swept  clean  and  tidy,  a  coal  fire 
lit,  for  the  autumn  morning  was  cold,  and  his  breakfast  set  out 
upon  the  table,  just  as  he  loved  to  have  his  food,  ready  to  his 
hand,  without  any  thought  or  trouble  about  it,  both  plenty  as 
regards  quantity,  and  pleasing  as  regards  quality.  More  than 
this,  his  daughter  Bess  was  busy  with  a  duster  among  his  pa- 
pers— no  one  but  Bess  knew  how  to  take  up  a  sheet  of  paper,  dust 
the  desk  about  and  under  it,  and  lay  it  down  again  in  its  place. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          325 

She  wore  a  white  apron,  her  sleeves  were  turned  up  above  her 
elbows,  and  she  was  going  about  her  work  steadily  and  quietly, 
as  if  nothing  at  all  had  happened.  More,  again,  when  she  saw 
her  father,  she  smiled  and  saluted  him.  Now  she  had  not 
smiled  or  said  a  single  gracious  thing  to  him  for  two  months 
and  more. 

"  Come,  father,"  she  said,  "  take  your  breakfast  while  the  beer 
is  fresh  and  hath  still  a  head.  The  cask  is  well-nigh  out,  and  I 
must  have  another  brew.  The  knuckle  of  pork  has  got  some 
good  cuts  left  yet ;  as  for  the  bread,  it  is  dry,  because  it  is 
baker's  bread,  and  last  week's  baking.  But  to-morrow  you 
shall  have  some  new  homemade." 

This  was  a  very  strange  and  remarkable  change.  Nothing 
at  all  had  happened  to  make  her  happier.  On  the  contrary,  her 
lover  was  certainly  going  to  marry  Castilla,  and  he  was  going 
away :  her  affairs  were  as  hopeless  as  they  could  well  be.  Yet 
now  her  soul  was  calm !  It  may  be  that  one  cannot  go  on  for- 
ever at  a  white  heat  of  wrath ;  but  some  have  been  known  to 
brood  over  their  wrongs  all  the  days  of  their  lives.  Her  soul 
was  calm.  That  was  the  change  which  had  fallen  upon  her. 
Her  eyes  were  no  longer  fierce,  and  her  cheek  was  no  more 
alternately  flaming  red  and  deathly  white.  Nor  did  her  lips 
move  continually  as  if  she  were  vehemently  reproaching  some 
one.  She  told  me  afterwards,  speaking  humbly  and  meekly, 
that  when  she  had  tried  to  curse  her  unfaithful  lover,  her  lips  re- 
fused ;  and  when  she  had  tried  to  murder  him — her  heart  failing 
her  at  the  last — the  words  that  she  said  to  him,  namely,  that 
she  would  seek  no  more  to  harm  him,  and  would  think  no  more 
of  him  with  bitterness,  feeling  assured  that  God  would  bring 
the  thing  home  to  him  in  such  a  way  as  would  touch  him  most 
surely,  these  words  seemed  as  if  they  were  whispered  in  her 
ears  or  put  into  her  mouth ;  and  then  suddenly,  as  she  uttered 
them,  all  the  rage  and  madness  which  had  torn  her  for  two 
months  left  her,  and  peace  fell  upon  her  heart.  Those  who 
please  may  put  upon  this  confession  any  other  meaning;  for 
my  own  part,  I  can  see  but  one.  What  that  interpretation  is  I 
leave  to  the  reader. 

Mr.  Westmoreland,  however,  when  he  observed  this  change, 
fell  to  shaking  and  shivering,  betraying  in  his  looks  the  most 
vivid  apprehensions.  The  reason  of  this  phenomenon  was  that 


326  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

in  the  old  days  before  his  wife  ran  away  from  him — Bess  dur- 
ing the  last  two  months  had  in  other  respects  greatly  resembled 
her  mother  as  to  temper — whenever  a  domestic  storm  of  greater 
fury  than  usual  was  brewing,  it  was  always  preceded  by  a  period 
of  unusual  activity  in  the  house,  with  a  strange  and  unnatural 
zeal  for  cleanliness  and  tidiness.  The  memory  of  this  fact,  and 
of  the  terrible  storms  which  afterwards  used  to  break  over  the 
poor  penman's  head,  caused  this  awakening  of  terror.  "Was  Bess 
in  this  respect  also  going  to  take  after  her  mother  ? 

"Child,"  he  stammered,  "what — what — what  in  Heaven's 
name  hath  happened  to  thee?  Have  I  wronged  thee  in  any 
way  ?  Tell  me,  Bess,  only  tell  me,  what  have  I  done  to  thee  ?" 

"  Why,  father,  nothing.  I  have  been  ill  lately.  Now  I  am 
better.  Sit  down  and  take  your  breakfast.  For  dinner  you 
shall  have  something  better  than  cold  knuckle  of  pork." 

He  obeyed  wondering  and  distrustful. 

"  I've  been  ill  of  late,  father,"  she  repeated ;  "  and  you've  been 
neglected  and  uncomfortable.  It's  my  fault  that  the  room  was 
this  morning  up  to  my  ankles  in  dust  and  dirt.  But  I've  been 
very  ill,  and  couldn't  do  anything  but  think  of  the  pains  in  my 
head." 

"  Well,  Bess,"  he  replied,  rallying  a  little,  "  to  be  sure  you've 
been  a  bit — so  to  speak — haughty  for  the  last  two  months.  It 
came  on,  I  remember,  about  the  time  when  the  lieutenant  came 
home." 

"  It  was  about  that  time,  father.  Two  months  ago  I  first  be- 
gan to  have  these  dreadful  pains  in  the  head." 

"  If  it  was  toothache,  you  should  have  gone  to  Mr.  Brinjes 
and  had  it  out.  If  it  was  tic,  there's  nothing  to  help  it  but 
a  charm.  But  why  not  ask  Mr.  Brinjes  to  charm  it  away  ?" 

"  It  was  not  the  toothache.  I  dare  say  it  was  tic.  But  now 
it  has  almost  gone." 

"  Was  it,  Bess — was  it " — he  dropped  his  voice — "  was  it  any- 
thing to  do  with  Aaron  Fletcher?  Sometimes  I've  thought 
there  might  have  been  a  love  disappointment.  Was  it  Aaron 
Fletcher?" 

"  Aaron  Fletcher  is  nothing  to  me,  and  never  will  be." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  that,  Bess,  because  Aaron  is  a  bad 
man — a  man  of  violence ;  a  crafty  man,  my  dear ;  a  headstrong 
man ;  a  man  without  virtue  or  religion ;  and  an  unforgiving  man 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY  WELL   THEN.  327 

as  well.  I've  watched  Aaron,  man  and  boy,  since  he  was  born. 
Aaron  will  end  badly.  Of  late  he  has  been  drinking,  and  his 
business  is  broken  up.  Aaron  will  come  to  a  bad  end." 

"  Well,  that's  enough  said  about  me,  father.  Go  on  with  the 
cold  knuckle." 

"  And  now  shall  I  hear  thee  singing  about  thy  work  again, 
Bess  ?  and  laughing  again,  just  as  before  ?  It  does  my  old 
heart  good  to  hear  thee  sing  and  laugh.  Nay,  that  doth  never 
put  me  out,  though  I  be  struggling  with  the  sine  and  tangent, 
and  even  with  the  versed  sine.  'Tis  when  I  hear  thee  weep  and 
groan,  and  when  to  all  my  questions  I  get  no  answer,  and  when 
thine  eyes  are  red  and  thy  cheek  pale,  and  when  all  day  long  I 
see  thee  sitting  neglectful  and  careless — 'tis  then,  my  dear,  that 
the  figures  swim  before  my  eyes  and  the  result  comes  all  wrong. 
'Tis  then  that  if  I  try  to  write,  my  flourishes  are  shaky,  and  the 
finials  lack  firmness." 

"  Nay,  father,"  she  replied,  "  I  fear  I  shall  not  laugh  and  sing 
again  all  my  life.  The  kind  of  tic  which  I  have  had  takes 
away  the  power  of  laughing  and  the  desire  for  singing.  But  I 
hope  never  again  to  be  so  troubled." 

"  Alas !"  said  her  father,  "  I  would  I  were  a  preacher,  so  that 
I  could  exhort  women  to  good  temper.  Sometimes  when  the 
learned  and  pious  vicar  is  expounding  the  wisdom  of  the  Chaldees 
— which  is,  no  doubt,  a  most  useful  subject  for  the  Church  to 
consider — I  venture  to  think  that  a  word  might  be  spared  on 
the  sins  of  temper  and  on  the  hasty  tongue  and  the  striking 
hand.  Truly,  for  my  own  part,  in  all  things  but  one  have  I 
been  singularly  blessed,  yea,  above  my  fellow-creatures.  For  I 
have  a  house  convenient  and  weather-tight ;  I  belong  to  the  one 
true  Church,  being  neither  a  Papist  nor  a  Schismatic ;  I  am  as- 
sured of  my  salvation,  through  no  merits  of  mine  own  ;  I  am  not 
of  lofty  station,  but  obscure,  yet  not  of  the  vilest  herd ;  I  live 
sufficiently,  and,  when  my  daughter  pleases  to  exercise  her  skill 
of  housewifery,  with  toothsomeness ;  no  man  envies  me,  and  I 
have  no  enemies ;  'tis  true  my  shoulders  are  round  and  I  am 
weak  of  arm ;  but  what  of  that  ?  To  crown  all,  I  have  been  en- 
dowed by  beneficent  Providence  with  the  love  of  divine  mathe- 
matics and  the  gift  of  fine  penmanship,  so  that  in  my  work, 
whether  I  copy,  or  engross,  or  write  letters,  or  work  out  loga- 
rithms, or  consider  the  theses,  lemmas,  corollaries,  problems,  and 


328  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

curious  questions  advanced  by  ingenious  professors  of  the  exact 
sciences,  I  live  all  day  long  in  continual  happiness.  I  would 
not  change  my  lot  for  any  other,  save  and  except  for  one  thing. 
I  am  filled  with  pride,  which  I  hope  is  not  sinful,  because  it  is 
in  gratitude  for  the  gifts  of  Heaven.  But  there  is  one  thing, 
my  child.  I  have  wanted  no  blessing  in  this  life,  which  to  many 
of  my  fellow-creatures  is,  for  no  seeming  fault  of  theirs,  a  vale 
of  misery  and  tears.  But,  alas !  I  still  found  my  comfort 
spoiled  by  the  temper  of  thy  mother  while  she  remained  with 
me.  And  I  feared,  Bess — I  say  that  I  feared  lest  thou  might 
also  take  after  her,  and  so  the  scoldings,  the  peevishness,  the 
discontent,  and  the  violence  might  begin  again.  I  am  not  so 
young  as  I  was  then,  and  I  doubt  whether  I  could  endure  that 
misery  again." 

"Fear  nothing,  father.  Why,  whenever  did  I  ask  or  do 
aught  to  make  you  think  that  I  should  upbraid  you  ?  As  for 
my  temper,  I  will  try  to  govern  myself.  Fear  nothing,  father. 
To-day  you  shall  have  as  good  a  dinner  as  you  can  desire,  to 
make  up  for  the  past  shortcomings.  What  will  you  have?" 
She  spoke  so  gently  and  softly  that  her  father  was  quite  re- 
assured, and  plucked  up  his  courage. 

"  Well,  child,  since  thou  art  in  so  happy  a  disposition — Lord 
grant  that  it  continue ! — I  would  choose,  if  I  may,  a  hodge- 
podge, with  an  onion-pie.  They  are  the  two  things,  as  thou 
knowest  well,  which  most  I  love.  With  hodgepodge,  oriion- 
pie,  and  a  merry  heart,  a  man  may  make  continual  feast." 

It  was  not  a  merry  heart  that  returned  to  poor  Bess,  but  it 
was  the  outward  seeming  or  show  of  cheerfulness  which  not 
only  returned,  but  remained  with  her,  so  that  she  now  listened 
to  her  father's  garrulous  prattle  with  apparent  interest,  and 
gratified  his  love  of  good  feeding  by  toothsome  dishes,  of  which 
there  was  no  more  notable  compounder  than  herself.  This  day 
especially  she  regaled  him  with  a  most  excellent  hodgepodge, 
in  itself  a  dish  fit  for  a  king,  and  also  with  an  onion-pie — a 
thing  counted  dainty  by  those  of  a  strong  digestion,  though  to 
some  who  have  a  delicate  stomach  it  may  be  thought  of  too 
coarse  a  flavor,  being  composed  of  potatoes,  onions,  apples,  and 
eggs,  disposed  in  layers  in  a  deep  pie-dish,  and  covered  over 
with  a  light  crust  of  flour  and  suet. 

While  Bess  was  engaged  in  the  preparation  of  this  banquet 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

the  barber  came  running  across  the  road,  as  was  his  wont  when 
the  morning  business  was  completed,  and  he  had  any  news  of 
importance  to  communicate.  For  the  spread  of  news  at  Dept- 
ford  is  in  this  way :  first  it  is  whispered  at  the  barber's  shop ; 
then  it  is  whispered  by  the  barber  to  his  customers  and  his 
cronies ;  and  next  it  is  carried  by  them  in  all  directions  around 
the  town. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news,  friend  Westmoreland?"  he 
asked,  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  the  possessor  of  an  important 
secret. 

"  Why,"  Mr.  Westmoreland  replied,  "  since  I  have  not  seen 
you  before  this  morning,  gossip,  how  should  I  hear  any  news  ?" 

"You  will  be  astonished,"  said  the  barber.  "Those  who 
hold  their  heads  the  highest  fall  the  soonest.  One  whom  you 
know  well,  friend,  and  have  known  long,  is  broke.  Ay,  you 
may  well  look  surprised  and  ask  who  it  is.  He  is  broke  who 
but  a  short  time  ago  was  master  of  a  thriving  business,  and 
seemed  as  if  he  would  save  money." 

"  Who  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  I  have  myself  suspected  a  great  while  what  would  happen. 
For,  thank  Heaven  !  I  can  see  as  far  as  most  men,  and  can  put 
two  and  two  together,  and  am  no  babbler  of  secrets,  but  keep 
them  to  myself,  or  talk  of  them  with  my  friends  over  a  pipe  of 
tobacco  and  a  glass,  being  a  discreet  person.  Wherefore,  when 
I  heard  of  certain  accidents,  and  saw  in  what  a  spirit  they  were 
received,  I  made  up  my  mind  what  would  happen." 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  asked  Mr.  Westmoreland,  when  this  garrulous 
person  had  partly  talked  himself  out  of  breath. 

"  It  is  a  man  whom  you  know  well ;  and  Bess  here  knows 
him  very  well  too." 

"  If,  Mr.  Skipworth,"  said  Bess,  "  you  would  tell  my  father 
your  news,  we  could  then  talk  about  it  afterwards." 

"Why,  then,  Aaron  Fletcher  is  broke.  That  is  the  first 
news.  Since  the  burning  of  his  yard  he  hath  done  no  work, 
not  even  to  putting  up  some  shed  and  carrying  on  the  busi- 
ness. What  were  we  to  think  of  that?  When  he  went  pri- 
vateering he  made  but  little  prize-money,  but  had  quickly  to 
come  home  again.  Therefore  he  hath  been  living  on  his  stock, 
and  hath  now  come  to  an  end,  and  is  broke.  This  morning  he 
was  to  have  been  arrested.  The  writs  are  out  for  him,  and  the 


330  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

officers  came  to  seek  him,  with  intent  to  take  him  to  the  Mar- 
shalsea,  where  his  case  would  have  been  tried  at  the  Palace 
Court." 

"  Would  have  been  tried  ?"  asked  the  penman.  "  Is  it  not 
to  be  tried,  then  ?" 

"  I  said  would,  because  for  one  thing  which  his  creditors 
thought  not  of — he  hath  escaped  them.  Otherwise  he  would 
have  languished  in  jail  until  his  death." 

Here  the  barber  wanted  to  be  asked  further  what  was  that 
happy  incident  which  enabled  Aaron  to  scape  prison ;  for  one 
who  is  a  retailer  of  news  loves  not  to  expend  it  all  at  a  breath, 
but  must  still  keep  some  back. 

"  His  father,"  he  continued,  "  was  a  substantial  man,  and 
saved  money,  which  the  son  has  spent.  He  inherited,  besides 
the  building  yard,  a  good  business,  and  a  fast  smack,  the  Will- 
ing Mind,  for  his  trade  across  the  Channel.  Now  the  smack  is 
lost,  the  yard  is  burned,  the  business  is  ruined,  and  the  money 
is  spent." 

"  An  idle  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Westmoreland ;  "  a  fellow  who 
loved  not  work.  But  how  hath  he  escaped  his  creditors  ?" 

"  He  will  not  go  to  prison ;  for  in  the  night,  we  now  learn 
from  certain  authority,  he  walked  over  to  Woolwich,  where  he 
hath  enlisted  in  the  marines,  and  so  is  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
creditors,  who  cannot  now  arrest  him.  So  he  escapes  the  pris- 
on, and  exchanges  the  Marshalsea  for  a  man-o'-war.  Maybe 
'tis  better  to  be  killed  by  a  cannon-shot  than  to  be  starved  in  a 
debtor's  jail." 

So,  after  more  reflections  on  the  folly  of  young  men,  and  the 
certain  end  of  laziness  and  extravagance — which  have  been  put 
more  concisely  by  King  Solomon  the  Wise — the  barber  re- 
turned to  his  shop ;  and  before  noon  every  one  in  Deptf ord 
had  heard  the  surprising  news  of  Aaron's  fall. 

This  intelligence  made  Bess  tremble,  thinking  on  the  mad- 
ness of  the  last  night,  when  this  young  man  was  so  desperate, 
being  now  assured  that  he  was  bankrupt,  that  he  was  ready  to 
commit  a  murder,  caring  little  whether  he  was  found  out  and 
hanged  or  no ;  and  she  herself  was  so  desperate  in  her  wrath 
and  jealousy  that  she  was  ready  to  commit  murder  in  order  to 
prevent  another  woman's  happiness.  Why,  what  would  be  the 
condition  of  that  guilty  pair  now  were  Jack  lying  dead  ?  Since, 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          331 

however,  Aaron  was  bankrupt,  it  was  now  certain  that  he  had 
already  resolved  to  go  away  and  enlist  in  the  marines  when  he 
came  to  her  and  proposed  the  crime ;  and  that  he  intended  to 
leave  the  dreadful  secret  of  the  murder,  had  it  been  committed, 
to  herself  alone — a  burden  greater  than  she  could  bear. 

For  Aaron,  'twas  the  only  way  of  escape,  to  'list  in  one  of  his 
majesty's  regiments.  Naturally  he  chose  the  marines  as  the 
branch  belonging  to  the  sea.  To  carry  a  musket  on  board  a 
king's  ship,  after  being  a  lieutenant  in  a  privateer,  not  to  speak 
of  commanding  the  Willing  Mind,  is  to  come  down  in  the 
world,  indeed.  Yet  that  he  cared  for  little,  considering  the 
alternative  of  a  debtor's  prison,  terrible  to  all,  but  most  terrible 
to  a  man  who,  like  Aaron,  had  spent  all  his  life  in  the  open 
air ;  and  most  certainly  it  is  better  for  the  country  that  a  stout 
and  active  fellow  should  be  fighting  her  battles  than  that  he 
should  be  laid  by  the  heels  in  a  prison  doing  nothing.  Mark, 
however,  what  followed.  Aaron  walked  to  Woolwich  that 
night ;  where  there  is  a  depot  for  marines,  which  in  that  war 
represented  twenty-five  companies.  He  enlisted  in  the  morn- 
ing. When  they  began  to  teach  him  his  drill  it  was  found  that 
he  already  knew  as  much  as  was  expected  of  any  recruit  when 
he  is  passed  for  service.  Therefore  he  was,  with  others, 
marched  to  Chatham  ready  for  embarkation.  There  are  many 
remarkable  coincidences  in  this  history,  but  there  is  none  more 
remarkable  than  the  fact  that  Aaron  should  have  been  shipped 
as  a  marine  on  board  the  very  ship,  the  Calypso,  of  which  the 
man  he  had  tried  to  murder  was  commander.  This  circum- 
stance, with  the  consequences  which  followed,  I  can  regard  as 
nothing  but  providentially  ordered. 

When  Aaron  discovered  who  was  the  captain  of  the  ship,  he 
fell  at  first  into  despair,  and  was  ready  to  throw  himself  over- 
board, looking  for  floggings  continually  and  on  the  merest  pre- 
text, with  keelhaulings  and  every  kind  of  tyranny,  oppression, 
and  punishment.  But  he  presently  found  that  the  captain  took 
no  kind  of  notice  of  him,  even  when  he  was  on  sentry  duty  on 
the  quarter-deck,  and  seemed  not  even  to  know  that  he  was  on 
board. 


332  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

HOW    PHILADELPHY    REFUSED    A    BRIBE. 

WHEN  Bess  had  given  her  father  his  hodgepodge  and  onion- 
pie,  which  he  received  as  some  compensation  due  to  him  for 
all  past  privations  and  recent  neglect,  she  left  him,  and  repaired 
to  the  apothecary's. 

Mr.  Brinjes  was  already  wide-awake,  and  in  earnest  conver- 
sation with  Philadelphy.  On  the  table  between  them  lay  the 
famous  skull-stick,  object  of  the  deepest  veneration  and  awe  to 
the  negro  woman. 

"  What  will  you  do  for  me,"  he  was  saying,  "  if  I  give  you 
this  stick?  I  am  old  now,  and  I  have  no  enemies  to  punish, 
nor  many  friends  to  protect,  and  I  want  nothing  for  myself  ex- 
cept that  which  not  even  an  Obeah  man  can  procure  for  him- 
self— his  lost  youth.  What  will  you  do  for  me,  Philadelphy, 
if  I  give  it  to  you  ?" 

"  Massa  Brinjes  " — she  clutched  at  the  stick,  and  held  it  in 
her  arms,  kissing  the  skull — horrid  thing ! — which  grinned  at 
Bess  as  if  it  were  alive,  "  I  will  do  everything.  Ask  me — tell 
me — I  will  do  everything." 

"  We  shall  see.  Those  who  possess  this  stick — it  must  be 
given,  not  stolen,  or  the  virtue  vanishes — can  do  whatever  they 
please.  Why,  if  it  were  your  own,  there  would  be  no  woman 
in  the  country  so  powerful  as  you.  If  you  have  enemies,  you 
could  put  Obi  on  them,  and  go  sit  in  the  sun  and  watch  them 
slowly  dying.  Ha !  I  have  seen  the  wise  women  on  the  west 
coast  sitting  thus,  and  watching  outside  the  hut  wherein  their 
enemy  lay  wasting  away.  And  if  you  have  friends,  think  of 
the  good-fortune  you  could  bring  them.  Why,  Miss  Castilla 
you  could  marry  to  a  lord ;  not  a  beggarly  ship  captain,  but  a 
rich  lord." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Philadelphy ;  "  she  shall  marry  Mas'  Jack. 
No  one  like  him." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  333 

"You  could  make  her  as  rich  as  you  could  desire.  If  she 
wants  children,  you  could  send  them  to  her.  No  need,  then, 
to  consult  the  cards  or  to  watch  the  birds,  because  you  could 
have  everything  your  own  way  to  command,  once  you  got  the 
skull-stick.  As  for  wind  and  rain,  you  could  call  for  them 
when  you  pleased.  See  " — he  rose  and  looked  up  at  the  sky, 
which  was  covered  with  driving  clouds,  the  wind  being  fresh — 
"  see,  you  would  like  rain !  'Twould  be  good  for  madam's  gar- 
den, would  it  not  ?  I  call  for  rain." 

Strange !  As  he  spoke,  the  drops  pattered  against  the  win- 
dows. Though  'twas  a  light  and  passing  shower,  yet  it  seemed 
to  fall  in  reply  to  his  call.  He  might  have  seen  it  on  the  point 
of  falling,  and  prophesied  after  the  event  was  decided.  Truly 
Mr.  Brinjes  was  crafty  and  subtle  above  all  other  men.  But 
Philadelphy  jumped  and  kissed  the  stick  again.  "You  see, 
Philadelphy,"  he  went  on,  "  what  you  could  do  with  this  stick. 
It  is  wasted  on  me,  because  I  am  too  old  to  want  anything.  I 
am  past  ninety,  and  you,  I  should  think,  are  not  much  over 
seventy.  If  I  die  before  I  give  the  stick  away,  it  is  lost — its 
virtue  is  gone.  But  there  is  still  time.  What  will  you  do  for 
me  if  I  give  you  the  stick  ?"  He  paused  and  considered  a  lit- 
tle before  he  went  on  again.  "  Perhaps  you  think  it  will  only 
compel  rain,  and  is  of  no  use  as  regards  persons.  Well,  here 
is  Bess  to  testify  that  I  put  Obi  on  Aaron  Fletcher.  He  was 
formerly  a  thriving  man  until  he  offended  me.  What  hath 
happened  to  him  since  ?  First,  he  was  tortured  with  toothache ; 
next,  his  smack  was  taken  by  French  privateers ;  then  he  went 
privateering  himself,  and  did  no  good ;  then  his  boat-building 
sheds  were  burned,  with  all  his  tools  and  timber ;  lastly,  he 
went  bankrupt,  and  hath  now,  I  hear,  enlisted  in  the  marines 
to  escape  a  prison.  I  have  removed  the  Obi,  and  now  leave 
him  to  his  fate.  What  will  you  do  for  me  if  I  give  you  the 
stick?" 

Again  the  old  woman  clutched  it  and  kissed  it,  with  the  un- 
holy light  of  witchcraft  in  her  eyes. 

I  wonder  if  the  Sorceress  of  Endor  had  a  skull-stick  ? 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Philadelphy.     What  will  you  do  for  me  ?" 

"  Everything,  Massa  Brinjes.  Nothing  in  the  world  that  I 
will  not  do  for  you." 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  that  I  cannot  make  my  stick  do  for 


334  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

me.  Everything  else  in  the  world  I  can  do.  But  this  thing  I 
cannot  do,  and  you  can." 

Still  clinging  to  the  stick,  the  old  woman  implored  him  only 
to  let  her  know  what  that  was,  in  order  that  she  might  instantly 
go  away  and  do  it. 

"Bess  hath  a  sweetheart,  and  he  hath  proved  a  rover,  as 
many  sailors  do.  Bring  him  back  to  her  arms  and  keep  him 
constant,  and  I  will  bestow  the  stick  upon  thee." 

"Nay,"  Bess  cried,  quickly.  "Since  my  sweetheart  loves 
me  no  longer,  I  will  have  no  charms  to  make  him.  I  have 
promised,  besides,  that  I  will  trouble  him  no  more." 

"  Tell  me  his  name,"  cried  the  old  woman,  regardless  of  Bess. 
"  Only  tell  me  his  name,  and  I  will  do  it  for  her." 

"  Can  you  bewitch  a  man  at  sea  ?" 

"  I  can,  I  can,"  she  cried.  "  I  will  make  his  heart  soft  for 
her,  so  that  he  will  forget  every  other  woman,  and  want  none 
but  Bess.  Why,"  she  said,  "  every  negro  woman  knows  a  love 
charm."  This  with  some  wonder  that  a  wizard  of  Mr.  Brinjes's 
power,  and  possessed  of  an  Obeah  stick,  should  not  be  able  to 
do  so  simple  a  thing.  "  I  can  make  him  love  her  all  the  same 
as  he  loved  her  at  first.  I  can  make  him  love  her  so  as  he  shall 
never  love  another  woman.  If  that  is  all,  Massa  Brinjes,  let 
me  carry  away  the  stick." 

"  Softly,  softly.  The  thing  is  not  done  yet.  If  I  give  thce 
this  stick  I  shall  never  get  it  back  again.  Wherefore  let  us 
have  it  paid  for  first." 

"  Tell  me  his  name,  then  " — Philadelphy  turned  eagerly  to 
Bess — "  only  tell  me  his  name,  girl,  and  I  will  make  the  charm 
to-day." 

"  Nay,"  Bess  repeated,  "  I  want  no  charm  to  bring  him  back." 

"  Be  not  so  proud,  Bess,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes ;  "  you  shall  have 
what  your  friends  can  get  you.  As  for  you,  Philadelphy,  be 
not  too  ready.  What  ?  You  think  I  would  give  such  a  stick  for  a 
trifle  ?  You  think  Bess's  lover  is  some  common  sea-swab,  I  dare 
say — a  master's  mate,  at  best,  or  a  gunner,  or  perhaps  a  ship- 
wright. No,  no ;  her  lover  is  another  guess  kind,  I  promise  you." 

"  If  he  was  an  admiral,  he  should  come  back  to  her.  Tell 
me  his  name." 

"  Even  if  he  were  promised  to  marry  your  young  mistress, 
MissCastilla?" 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          335 

A  negro  woman  cannot  turn  pale,  particularly  one  so  black 
as  Philadelphy,  nor  can  her  color  come  and  go  like  that  of  a 
white  woman ;  yet  she  changes  color  when  she  is  moved. 
Philadelphy  not  only  changed  color,  but  she  gasped,  and  looked 
upon  Mr.  Brinjes  as  one  astonished  and  dismayed. 

"  To  marry  Miss  Castilla  ?"  she  repeated. 

"  What  if  Bess's  lover  had  deserted  her  for  her  young  mis- 
tress?" 

"  Don't  say  that — oh,  Massa  Brinjes  !  I  cooden  do  it — no 
— no — I  could  do  anything  else,  but  I  cooden  do  it  even  for 
the  stick." 

"  I  say,  Philadelphy,  what  if  his  name  was  Jack  Easterbrook  ? 
Why,  it  is  Jack.  It  is  the  captain  who  was  Bess's  lover. 
Where  were  your  eyes  not  to  discover  that?  You,  a  witch? 
Where  were  your  eyes,  I  say  ?" 

"  I  cooden  do  it — no — I  cooden  do  it." 

"  Look  at  the  stick  again,  old  woman.  Think  of  the  joy  of 
having  the  stick  your  own.  Think  of  what  you  could  do,  with 
the  stick  to  help  you.  What  is  the  captain  to  you,  compared 
with  the  possession  of  the  stick  ?" 

She  looked  at  it  with  yearning  eyes.  Suppose  that  the  thing 
which  all  your  life  you  have  been  taught  to  regard  as  the  sym- 
bol and  proof  of  power  was  to  be  offered  you  at  a  price  ?  This 
was  the  old  negro  woman's  case ;  she  could  have  the  Obeah 
stick  in  return  for — what  ? 

"  At  the  worst,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  it  would  make  her  un- 
happy for  a  week." 

"  No,  no  ;  Miss  Castilla  she  set  her  heart  upon  the  captain. 

"  Well,"  the  tempter  continued,  "  with  the  help  of  the  stick 
you  cannot  only  find  a  rich  and  noble  lover  for  her,  one  who 
will  make  her  happy,  but  you  can  also  give  her  a  charm,  and 
make  her  forget  the  captain." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  old  woman ;  "  Miss  Castilla  will  never 
forget  the  captain." 

"  Then,  when  his  fancy  returns  to  his  old  love,  which  it  will 
do  before  long,  your  young  mistress  will  be  made  unhappy. 
Come,  Philadelphy,  think  of  this  stick ;  think  of  having  it  your 
own — the  great  Obeah  stick." 

"Who  are  you,"  she  turned  fiercely  upon  Bess,  "to  take 
away  a  young  gentleman  officer  ?  Stay  with  your  own  people, 


336  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

and  let  the  captain  stay  with  his.  Massa  Brinjes,  if  I  give  you 
the  secret  to  keep  alive — ten,  fifty,  a  hundred  years  if  you  like 
— will  you  give  me  the  stick  ?" 

"  If  you  have  that  secret,  old  woman,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  I 
will  tear  it  out  of  you  if  I  have  to  rack  every  joint  in  your 
body  with  rheumatism.  If  you  know  that  secret,  it  is  as  good 
as  mine  already.  No,  Philadelphy,  it  is  the  captain  or  noth- 
ing. Look  at  the  stick  again,  Philadelphy.  Take  it  in  your 
hands." 

"  Oh,  I  will  get  the  girl — what  a  fuss  about  a  girl !  as  if  she 
was  a  lady  ! — I  will  get  her  any  other  man  in  Deptf  ord.  Plenty 
handsome  men  in  Deptford." 

"  I  want  none  of  her  charms,  Mr.  Brinjes,  for  Jack  or  any  one 
else,"  Bess  said  again.  "  Let  her  have  the  stick,  if  you  like, 
and  let  her  go." 

"  There  !"  Philadelphy  cried,  triumphantly.  "  You  see  ? 
She  wants  none  of  my  charms.  Why,  there,  take  the  secret 
instead,  and  let  me  have  the  stick,  and  you  shall  live  for  a 
hundred  years  more." 

Here  one  cannot  but  admire  the  way  in  which  these  two 
magicians  believed  each  in  the  other's  powers,  but  were  uncer- 
tain about  their  own.  For,  first,  if  Mr.  Brinjes  by  means  of  his 
skull-stick  could  draw  down  rain  from  the  sky,  why  could  he 
not  move  the  captain's  heart  ?  And,  next,  if  Philadelphy  could 
turn  a  faithless  lover  back  to  his  fidelity,  why  could  she  not 
so  order  Castilla's  heart  that  she  should  resign  the  captain  with- 
out a  pang  ?  But  this  she  could  not  do.  Yet  the  wizard  be- 
lieved in  the  witch,  and  the  witch  in  the  wizard. 

"  It  must  be  Jack,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "or  nothing." 

"  Then,"  she  replied,  sorrowfully,  "  it  is  nothing.  Put  away 
the  stick,  Mr.  Brinjes,  lest  I  die  of  longin',  and  let  me  go." 

He  replaced  the  stick  in  the  corner.  The  skull  grinned  at 
the  old  woman  as  if  in  contempt  because  she  had  missed  so 
magnificent  an  opportunity. 

"  Very  well,  Philadelphy,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  returning  to  his 
pillows.  "  I  do  not  believe  you  know  any  charm  at  all.  You 
know  nothing.  You  are  only  an  ignorant  old  negro  woman. 
In  Jamaica  they  would  laugh  at  you.  You  are  not  a  wise  wom- 
an. You  only  pretend  to  make  charms.  Why,  anybody  could 
make  as  good  a  charm  as  you." 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  337 

She  shook  her  head,  but  made  no  reply,  still  gazing  at  the 
stick. 

"  All  your  tricks  are  only  pretence.  You  cannot,  in  reality, 
do  anything.  As  for  your  cards,  you  cannot  even  tell  a  fortune 
properly.  If  you  can,  tell  Bess  hers." 

Philadelphy  drew  from  her  pocket  a  pack  of  cards,  greasy 
and  well  worn,  and  began  to  shuffle  them  and  to  lay  them  out 
according  to  her  so-called  science.  Bess,  who  would  have  no 
charms,  could  not  resist  the  sight  of  the  cards,  and  looked  on 
anxiously  while  the  old  woman  laid  out  her  cards  and  mut- 
tered her  conclusions. 

"  The  dark  woman  is  Bess,"  she  said — "  the  fair  woman  is 
Miss  Castilla — the  King  of  Hearts  is  the  captain.  Oh !  the 
dark  woman  wins !"  She  dashed  the  cards  aside,  and  would 
go  on  no  further,  but  with  every  sign  of  alarm  and  anxiety  rose 
up,  and,  tightening  her  red  turban,  she  hurried  away. 

"  Always,"  said  Bess,  "  she  has  told  me  the  same  fortune. 
Always  the  same.  Yet  I  know  not." 

"  These  divinations  by  cards,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  are  known 
by  many  women  even  in  this  country,  where  there  is  so  little 
wisdom.  I  wonder  if  Philadelphy  lied  when  she  offered  to  sell 
me  that  secret.  If  I  thought  she  had  such  a  secret — but  I 
doubt,  else  why  doth  she  continue  so  old  and  grow  so  infirm  ? 
No,  she  hath  not  that  knowledge,  which  I  must  seek  on  the 
African  coast.  Bess,  take  courage.  We  will  sail  to  that  coast 
— you,  Jack,  and  I ;  we  will  be  all  carried  away  together ;  and, 
first,  I  will  find  that  secret,  and,  next,  we  will  go  forth  to  the 
Southern  Seas,  and  there  dig  up  the  treasure  of  the  great  gal- 
leon." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  As  for  me,"  she  said,  "  there  will  be  no  sailing  away,  Jack, 
nor  any  happiness  at  all ;  and  as  for  you,  daddy,  when  you  are 
carried  away  it  will  be  with  feet  first." 

"  Perhaps  !  Yet  I  doubt !  For  I  do  continually  dream  of 
those  seas,  and  clearly  discern  the  ship,  with  myself  upon  the 
poop,  and  the  island  not  far  off,  where  at  the  foot  of  the  palm- 
tree  there  lie  the  boxes.  All  shall  be  thine,  Bess — to  dispose 
of  as  thou  wilt." 

"Why,"  said  Bess,  simply,  "  what  should  I  do  with  it  but 
give  it  all  to  Jack  ?" 
15 


338  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

HOW  BAD  NEWS  CAME  HOME. 

NOTHING  at  all  was  heard  of  the  Calypso  for  three  or  four 
months.  It  was  not  even  known  whither  she  had  sailed,  except 
that  she  was  with  Sir  Edward  Hawke's  fleet.  But  it  was  known 
that  M.  Thurot  had  got  out  of  Dunquerque  with  five  frigates, 
on  board  of  which  were  a  large  number  of  troops,  with  intent 
to  make  a  descent  upon  Ireland,  and  we  conjectured  that  per- 
haps the  Calypso  might  have  been  ordered  to  join  the  squadron 
in  chase  of  that  gallant  Frenchman.  But  that  proved  not  to  be 
the  case. 

It  was  in  January — namely,  on  the  evening  of  the  15th  of 
January,  in  the  year  1760 — that  the  news  arrived  which  filled 
the  hearts  of  all  with  shame  and  confusion.  'Twas  a  wild  and 
tempestuous  night,  fitting  the  nature  of  the  intelligence  which 
then  arrived.  The  wind  blew  up  the  river  in  great  gusts,  and 
the  rain  drove  slanting  into  the  faces  of  those  who  were  out.  I 
remembered,  afterwards,  that  I  had  met  Philadelphy  in  the 
morning.  The  old  woman  was  always  full  of  omens  and  prog- 
nostications. Sometimes  she  had  seen  a  ghost  in  the  night — 
surely  there  was  never  a  greater  ghost-seer  than  this  old  ne- 
gress — and  sometimes  she  had  been  warned  by  one  of  the  many 
signs  which  terrify  the  superstitious.  "  Hi !  Massa  Luke,"  she 
said,  in  her  negro  way,  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  imitate,  "  there's 
bad  news  coming,  for  sure.  Last  night  the  cock  crowed  twice 
at  midnight,  and  an  owl  screeched  round  the  chimney ;  there 
was  a  dog  barking  all  night  long,  and  I  saw  a  ghost.  There's 
bad  news  coming !"  I  asked  her  what  the  ghost  was  like,  but 
she  refused  to  tell  me.  Well,  it  is  true  that  on  many  other 
occasions  she  foretold  disaster  (because  to  this  kind  of  witch 
there  are  never  any  signs  of  good  luck),  and  her  prophecies 
proved  naught.  But  on  this  day,  alas  !  she  proved  a  true 
prophetess  of  evil. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  339 

At  the  Sir  John  Falstaff  some  of  the  company,  including 
Mr.  Brinjes,  who  was  never  late,  had  already  arrived,  and  were 
hanging  up  their  hats,  the  candles  being  lit,  a  great  coal  fire 
burning,  pipes  laid  on  the  table,  and  the  chairs  set. 

"  There  hath  arrived  bad  news,"  said  Captain  Petherick,  the 
commissioner  of  the  yard.  "  I  heard  talk  of  it  at  the  navy 
house  this  morning.  It  is  said  that  we  have  lost  a  frigate. 
They  say  also  that  we  have  lost  her  cowardly,  a  thing  which 
one  is  not  ready  to  believe.  But  I  have  not  heard  the  particu- 
lars, and  I  know  not  the  name  of  the  craft.  'Tis  pity,  but  'tis 
true,  that  there  should  be  found  in  every  war  cowardly  com- 
manders, in  British  as  well  as  in  French  bottoms.  Those  of 
us  who  have  memories  can  remember  the  last  war,  gentlemen. 
Well,  we  must  quickly  build  or  capture  another  ship,  and  find 
a  better  captain.  We  will  give  the  command  to  Jack  Easter- 
brook." 

So  saying,  he  sat  down,  and  began  to  fill  his  pipe  leisurely. 
Just  as  he  had  finished  these  words,  and  before  Mr.  Brinjes 
had  time  to  do  more  than  open  his  mouth,  there  came  running 
into  the  room  the  landlord,  having  in  his  hand  the  London  Post 
of  the  evening,  brought  down  the  river  from  town  by  some 
boatman.  His  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes  full  of  terror. 

"  Oh  !  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  gentlemen  !  Here  is  such 
news  !  I  cannot  trust  my  eyes.  For  God's  sake,  read  the  news- 
paper !  But  who  shall  tell  the  admiral  ?" 

"  Is  it  news  from  the  fleet  ?"  asked  Captain  Petherick. 

"  It  is,  your  honor."  The  man  looked  as  if  he  were  afraid 
to  tell  his  news.  "  Oh  !  gentlemen,"  he  repeated,  "  who  shall 
tell  the  admiral  ?" 

"  Is  it  bad  news  ?"  asked  Mr.  Brinjes. 

"  It  is  the  worst  news  possible.  Gentlemen — it  is — it  is — " 
He  looked  about  him  to  see  if  the  admiral  was,  perhaps,  pres- 
ent, hitherto  unseen.  "It  is  news  of — of — of  Captain  Easter- 
brook,  gentlemen.  Of  no  other,  indeed." 

"What!"  cried  the  apothecary;  "bad  news?  The  worst 
news  ?  Then  is  our  boy  dead."  He  sat  down  in  a  chair,  and 
looked  from  face  to  face.  "  Jack  is  dead." 

"  It  is  the  worst  news  possible,"  repeated  the  landlord. 

"  Jack  is  dead,"  said  all  together,  looking  at  one  another 
in  dismay. 


340  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Jack  is  dead,"  repeated  Mr.  Brinjes.  "  There  hath  been 
an  action,  and  Jack  hath  fallen.  Poor  Bess  !  Yet,  now  he  will 
never  marry  the  other."  The  company  knew  not  what  he 
meant.  "  Well,  every  man  must  take  his  chance.  I  looked 
for  other  things — but —  Jack  is  dead  !  Some  die  young,  and 
some  die  old.  To  those  who  die  old  it  seems  as  if  their  years 
have  been  but  a  dream.  What  matters,  therefore,  when  a  man 
dies  ?  Wherefore — devil  take  all  black  negro  witches  with  their 
lying  prophecies  !"  Again  the  company  asked  themselves  what 
Mr.  Brinjes  might  mean. 

The  landlord  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  sir.  No,  gentlemen.  Oh  !  you  will  not  understand. 
Read  the  Post.  Captain  Easterbrook  hath  lost  his  ship." 

"  If,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  he  lost  his  ship,  of  course  he  first 
lost  his  life  or  else  his  limbs.  He  would  not  be  taken  below 
while  there  was  yet  life  enough  left  to  fight  his  ship." 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  the  landlord  again,  "  your  honors  will 
not  listen.  It  is  in  the  London  Post." 

He  held  out  his  newspaper,  but  no  one  offered  to  take 
it.  Every  one  knew  now  that  something  had  happened  worse 
than  death.  Then  they  heard  the  admiral's  step  as  he  entered 
the  house  and  stumped  along  the  passage  with  his  escort 
of  negroes. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  landlord  again,  "  who  shall  tell  him  ?" 
Again  he  held  out  the  paper.  They  looked  at  one  another  and 
held  back.  No  one  offered  to  take  the  paper ;  they  were  afraid. 
It  is  one  kind  of  courage  to  walk  up  to  a  cannon's  mouth,  and 
another  to  become  a  messenger  of  bad  tidings. 

Then  the  admiral  came  in,  followed  by  his  two  negroes.  He 
saluted  the  company  cheerfully,  and  gave  his  hat  and  cloak  to 
his  servants.  This  done,  he  took  his  seat  in  his  usual  place. 
But  the  other  gentlemen  standing  about  the  fire  did  not,  as  was 
customary,  follow  his  example.  They  hesitated,  looked  first 
at  the  admiral,  and  then  at  the  landlord. 

"  Gentlemen,  be  seated,"  said  the  admiral. 

"  Sir" — it  was  Mr.  Brinjes  who  spoke  ;  "  it  appears  that  bad 
news  hath  arrived." 

"What  news?" 

"  It  is  news  of  Captain  Easterbrook." 

"  Is  the  boy — is  the  boy  dead  ?"  asked  the  admiral. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  341 

"  Sir,  we  cannot  but  suppose  so.  For  he  hath  lost  his  ship. 
But  as  yet  we  have  not  seen  the  Post.'1'' 

"  No,  no,"  the  landlord  again  interposed,  holding  out  the 
Post,  which  no  one  would  take.  "  Gentlemen,  stand  by  me, 
I  beseech  you.  Sir,  the  captain  is  not  dead." 

"  Then,  poor  lad,"  said  the  admiral,  "  he  is  grievously 
wounded,  and  like  to  die.  Our  boy,  gentlemen,  is  grievously 
wounded,  and  like  to — "  Here  his  voice  failed  him. 

"  No,  sir,  he  is  not  wounded." 

"  Then  he  is  shipwrecked  and  drowned.  Why  is  the  man 
staring  like  a  stuck  pig  ?  Alas  !  gentlemen,  our  boy  is  drowned." 
But  the  admiral  looked  uncertain,  because  the  company,  now 
understanding  that  something  out  of  the  common  had  hap- 
pened, looked  at  one  another  and  at  the  landlord,  and  spoke 
not. 

"  Sirs " — the  landlord  again  offered  the  newspaper  to  one 
after  the  other,  but  no  one  took  it — "  the  news  is  here  printed. 
Otherwise,  God  forbid  that  I  should  dare  to  say  such  a  thing. 
Your  honor,  it  is  here  stated  that  the  captain  struck  his  colors 
in  the  very  beginning  of  the  action." 

"  Struck  his  colors  !"  The  admiral  caught  the  arms  of  his 
chair,  raised  himself  as  quickly  as  a  one-legged  man  may. 
"  Struck  his  colors  !  Jack  struck  his  colors  !  Ye  lie,  ye  drunken 
swab  !  Ye  lie !"  With  that  he  delivered  him  so  shrewd  a  blow 
with  his  gold-headed  stick  that,  had  not  the  landlord  dodged, 
he  would  have  been  enabled  instantly  to  carry  the  news  into 
the  next  world.  "  Ye  lie,  I  say !"  Here  his  voice  failed  him, 
and  his  face  became  purple,  and  he  reeled  and  would  have 
fallen  but  that  Mr.  Shelvocke  and  Captain  Petherick  caught 
him  and  sat  him  in  a  chair,  where  he  gasped  and  panted,  and 
looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  have  a  fit  of  some  kind.  As  for 
the  landlord,  he  stood  in  a  corner,  pale  and  trembling. 

"  Give  me  the  paper,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  when  the  admiral 
had  somewhat  mastered  his  passion.  "  Let  us  at  least  read 
what  is  here  stated."  He  read  it  silently.  "  Gentlemen,"  he 
said,  "  this  is  a  strange  business.  I  understand  it  not.  Here 
is  more  than  meets  the  eye.  It  is  a  thing  hard  to  understand. 
I  will  read  it  aloud.  Courage,  admiral,  the  story  is  impossible 
as  it  stands. 

"  « Despatches  have  been  received  from  Sir  Edward  Hawke. 


342  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

He  reports  an  affair  which,  unless  later  intelligence  contradict 
it,  is  more  discreditable  to  British  honor  than  anything  which 
has  been  done  since  the  cowardly  flight  of  Benbow's  captains. 
The  frigate  Calypso,  Captain  John  Easterbrook,  with  her  con- 
sort the  Resolute,  Captain  Samuel  Boys,  fell  in  at  daybreak 
with  a  squadron  of  the  enemy,  consisting  of  three  frigates,  one 
of  them  being  the  Malicieuse.  The  names  of  the  other  two 
are  not  given.  The  Frenchman  bore  away  on  discovery  of  the 
Union-Jack,  and  the  British  ships  gave  chase.  After  some 
hours  the  Calypso  came  up  with  the  Malicieuse,  the  hindmost 
of  the  three,  the  Resolute  being  then  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so 
astern,  though  crowding  all  sail.  It  is  reported  by  Captain 
Boys,  he  being  then  on  his  quarter-deck  and  glass  in  hand, 
that  the  engagement  was  commenced  by  the  Malicieuse  firing 
a  shot  from  her  stern-chaser  which  struck  the  Calypso ;  that 
then  he  saw  Captain  Easterbrook  strike  his  colors  with  his  own 
hand ;  that  his  officers  ran  about  him,  and  he  cut  one  down ; 
that  the  Frenchman  immediately  lowered  a  boat  and  boarded 
the  prize,  driving  the  crew  below ;  and  that  the  other  two 
French  frigates  backed  their  sails,  whereupon  he  withdrew  from 
the  chase,  thinking  it  useless  to  engage  three  vessels  at  once ; 
that  he  was  not  pursued ;  and  that  he  knows  no  reason  at  all 
why  the  ship  was  surrendered  without  firing  a  shot.  'Tis 
thought  that  the  Calypso  hath  been  conveyed  to  Brest.  This 
account  is  the  more  extraordinary  by  reason  of  the  character 
for  gallantry  possessed  by  Captain  Easterbrook,  who  was  one  of 
Captain  Lockhart's  lieutenants  on  board  the  fighting  Tartar.'1 " 

"  This  is  a  very  strange  story,"  said  Captain  Petherick. 
"  By  your  leave,  Mr.  Brinjes,  I  will  not  believe  it." 

"  Thank  ye,  old  friend,"  said  the  admiral,  hoarsely.  "  My 
boy  surrender  ?  Never,  sir — never.  Damme,  Mr.  Apothecary, 
wilt  thou  try  to  persuade  us  that  such  a  thing  is  possible  ?" 

"  Nay,  admiral,  nay ;  I  do  but  read  what  is  printed.  Lord 
forbid  that  I  should  doubt  the  boy.  What  is  this  ?  Ay,  they 
have  begun  already  their  pestilent  verses.  'Twill  be  just  as  it 
was  with  Admiral  Byng,  when  the  journals  were  full  of  squibs. 
Listen  now.  Oh !  they  care  nothing  about  truth  so  long  as 
they  can  turn  a  verse  and  raise  a  laugh.  Listen. 

"  '  The  following  lines  have  been  picked  up  at  the  Rainbow. 
'Tis  thought  they  come  from  the  Temple : 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  343 

"  '  The  Frenchman  crowds  all  sail  in  fright ; 
The  Briton  crowds  all  sail  to  fight ; 
The  brave  Calypso's  gallant  tyke 
Claps  on  all  sail  in  haste  to  strike." 

And  these  have  been  recited  at  Dick's — • 

"  *  The  captain  brave  his  ship  would  save, 

And  so  this  great  commander 
Cries,  "  Heroes,  I  will  scorn  to  fly, 

While  I  can  still  surrender. 
Stay,  Frenchman,  stay :  your  shot  may  play 

Too  rough  among  my  hearties  ; 
I  fear  no  foe :  but  yet,  I  know, 

To  strike  the  better  part  is."  '  " 

"  Oh !  'tis  a  lie — 'tis  a  lie,"  the  admiral  groaned.  "  Gentle- 
men, my. boy  Jack  !  Gentlemen,  I  say — " 

"  We  cannot  believe  it,  admiral,"  said  Captain  Petherick. 
"  Yet  it  is  in  the  despatches." 

"  There  is  something  that  we  are  not  told,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes. 
"  But,  without  doubt,  the  Calypso  is  taken  prisoner,  and  some 
one  on  board  struck  the  colors." 

The  admiral  stared  about  him  with  amazement  and  confu- 
sion in  his  eyes.  Then  he  rose  slowly.  "  I  shall  go  home, 
gentlemen.  I  wish  you  good-night.  Some  one  shall  swing 
for  this  lie — some  one  shall  swing."  He  moved  towards  the 
door,  forgetting  his  hat  and  cloak,  which  one  of  the  gentlemen 
reached  for  him.  "  Some  one,  I  say,  shall  swing  for  this — 
this  diabolical  lie  about  my  boy  Jack.  We  shall  see — damme, 
I  say,  we  shall  see!  What,  sirrah,  the  lantern  not  lit?"  In- 
deed, it  was  not  the  duty  of  the  negro  to  keep  the  candle 
burning  through  the  evening ;  but  the  admiral  belabored  him 
so  lustily  that  the  fellow  roared,  and  the  company  trembled 
lest  he  should  be  killed.  But  a  negro's  head  is  hard.  Then 
the  admiral  walked  away.  This  was  his  last  night  with  the 
club  ;  he  came  no  more  to  the  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

The  gentlemen,  without  his  presence,  sat  awhile  speechless. 
But  the  landlord  brought  in  the  punch,  and  they  presently  filled 
and  lit  their  pipes,  and  began  to  whisper. 

"  Do  you  think,  sir,"  asked  Mr.  Brasil  of  the  apothecary — 
"  do  you  think  that  the  story  may  be  in  any  point  of  it  true  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  as  for  truth,  I  suppose  that  is 
never  got  at,  and  this  nut  is  hard  to  crack.  How  such  a  man 


344  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

as  Jack  Easterbrook  could  haul  down  his  flag  before  the  action 
began  passes  understanding.  But  then  how  men  like  Captain 
Boys  and  his  officers  should  be  deceived,  when  only  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  distant  or  thereabouts,  one  cannot  understand  either. 
And  that  the  ship  is  taken  one  cannot  doubt." 

"  If  he  comes  home  he  will  be  tried  by  court-martial,  and  for 
cowardice,"  said  Mr.  Shelvocke. 

"  That  is  most  certain,"  said  Captain  Petherick ;  "  and  if  he 
surrendered  cowardly,  he  will  be  shot.  Gentlemen,  this  is  an 
event  which  affects  our  own  honor.  For  though  the  boy  is  no 
blood-relation  of  any  here,  he  hath  been  our  pupil,  so  to  speak. 
We  have  taught  him.  He  is  our  son,  in  whom  we  hoped,  and 
in  whom  we  believed.  It  is  not  the  admiral  alone  who  is  struck. 
It  is  this  company  of  honorable  gentlemen  who  would  have 
maintained  to  their  dying  day  that  Jack  Easterbrook  could 
never  turn  t)ut  a  coward.  Why,  a  more  gallant  lad  never  trod 
the  deck,  as  witness  Captain  Lockhart,  of  the  Tartar,  where  he 
served.  I  say,  gentlemen,  this  affects  us  all.  We  are  brought 
to  shame  by  this  untoward  and  unexpected  event." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  one  of  the  company,  "  the  captain  was  shot 
at  the  outset,  and  it  was  the  first  lieutenant  who  hauled  down 
the  flag." 

But  that  seemed  impossible,  because  no  one  could  fail  to 
discern  Captain  Easterbrook  at  so  short  a  distance,  if  only  on 
account  of  his  great  stature.  Besides,  Captain  Samuel  Boys 
was  known  for  a  sober  and  honest  man,  who  would  certainly 
not  invent  so  grievous  a  charge  against  a  brother'  officer. 
"  Perhaps,"  said  another,  "  the  ship  was  foundering." 
Then  they  read  the  statement  again,  trying  to  extract  from  it, 
if  possible,  some  gleam  of  hope  or  doubt.  But  they  found  none. 
"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  apothecary,  "  I  hope  I  shall  not  be 
thought  to  be  a  man  over-ready  to  believe  this  monstrous  thing 
if  I  submit  that  it  may  be  true,  and  that  the  act  was  made 
possible  by  one  of  those  sudden  madnesses  which  the  people 
believe  to  be  the  possession  of  the  devil.  We  read  of  poor 
women,  in  such  fits,  murdering  their  own  tender  children ;  and 
of  husbands  beating  to  death  their  wiyes,  without  a  cause  ;  and 
of  learned  scholars  who  have  gone  forth  from  their  books  to 
hang  themselves  without  any  reason  for  despair.  No  man  is  at 
all  times  master  of  his  own  actions ;  and  doubtless  there  are  in 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  345 

the  brain,  as  in  the  body,  weak  places,  so  that  just  as  one  man 
falleth  into  an  asthma,  or  a  rheumatism,  or  the  gout,  by  reason 
of  bodily  imperfections,  so  may  a  man  by  mental  disorder  com- 
mit acts  of  false  judgment,  foolish  conclusions,  and  mad  acts 
for  which  there  is  no  accounting.  Nor  can  we  anticipate  or 
prevent  such  attacks.  I  once  knew  as  brave  a  fellow  as  ever 
stepped  to  snivel  and  cry  for  an  hour  together;  and  why? 
Only  because  he  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged.  Yet  he  walked 
manfully  to  the  gallows  in  the  end.  And  another,  who  fell  on 
his  knees  and  wept  aloud,  because  he  was  to  have  a  tooth  out, 
which  he  dreaded  more  than  he  did  the  three  dozen  he  had  re- 
ceived a  month  before." 

"Then  you  think,  sir,"  said  Captain  Petherick,  "that  the 
boy  may  have  been  mad  ?" 

"  I  know  not  what  to  think:.  I  tell  the  company  what  I  have 
seen.  Some  acts,  I  declare,  are  not  consistent  with  what  we 
know  of  the  man's  previous  life.  What  should  we  think  did 
the  reverend  Vicar  of  St.  Paul's  suddenly  fall  to  singing  a  roar- 
ing tavern  song  of  Poll  and  Nan  ?  Yet  that  would  be  no  whit 
the  worse  than  for  Jack  to  become  suddenly  coward.  There 
are  some  who  say  that  men  are  thus  afflicted  by  divine  visita- 
tion. That  may  be.  A  congestion  of  the  liver  and  the  mount- 
ing of  vapors  to  the  head  may  likewise  produce  such  effects. 
Yet  we  do  not  call  a  liver  disease  a  divine  visitation.  I  remem- 
ber once,  being  then  on  the  coast  of  Yucatan,  a  very  singular 
thing.  Landlord,  the  bowl  is  out.  I  say,  gentlemen,  that  I 
once  witnessed  a  very  singular  thing.  There  was  a  young  fel- 
low with  us  of  five  or  six  and  twenty ;  a  dare-devil  dog  who 
had  faced  death  so  often  that  he  feared  him  no  longer,  and  was 
looked  to  lead  the  way.  The  enemy  showed  fight,  and  we 
came  to  close  quarters,  when  the  word  was  given  to  board. 
What  happened  ?  He  leaped  upon  the  enemy's  deck  with  the 
greatest  resolution,  and  then,  to  our  surprise,  he  turned  tail  and 
fled  like  a  cur,  dropping  his  arms  and  crying  out  for  fear.  We 
tried  that  man,  gentlemen,  when  we  landed,  and  we  shot  him 
for  cowardice,  just  as  Jack  Easterbrook  will  be  tried  and  shot, 
if  he  be  fool  enough  to  come  home.  'Twas  a  pity,  too,  for 
after  he  was  dead  we  found  out  the  reason  of  this  strange  be- 
havior. He  was  bewitched  by  an  old  woman  to  revenge  her 
granddaughter,  his  sweetheart,  who  was  mad  with  him  on  ac- 
15* 


346  THE    WORLD    WENT  VERY    WELL    THEN. 

count  of  his  many  infidelities.  The  girl  came  out  and  laughed 
in  his  face  while  he  was  led  forth  to  execution.  Afterwards 
she  confessed  the  crime  to  some  of  the  girls ;  and  when  they 
began  to  talk  of  it,  she  took  to  the  woods,  where,  no  doubt,  she 
presently  perished.  The  old  woman  we  punished.  The  night 
before  she  was  executed,  I  went  privily  to  her  and  offered  her 
poison  if  she  would  give  me  her  secrets,  and  especially  the 
secret  by  which  she  knew  how  to  prolong  life  as  much  as  she 
pleased.  But  she  refused,  being  an  obstinate  old  woman ;  and 
next  day  the  men  gave  her  a  bad  time,  being  mad  with  her. 
Gentlemen,  we  are  not  on  the  Spanish  Main ;  and  there  is  no 
witch  among  us,  except  Philadelphy,  the  admiral's  negro  wom- 
an, who  would  not,  if  she  could,  put  Obi  on  Jack.  Yet  if  this 
story  be  true,  then  I  doubt  not  that  our  boy  was  clean  off  his 
head,  and  no  longer  master  of  himself,  when  he  struck  his  flag." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

HOW    THE    NEWS    WAS    RECEIVED. 

THE  next  despatches  brought  confirmation  of  the  news. 
There  could  now  be  no  doubt  at  all  that  the  Calypso  had  been 
surrendered  by  the  captain,  and  that  without  striking  a  blow. 
The  consternation  and  shame  which  fell  upon  us  cannot  be  de- 
scribed ;  nay,  not  upon  us  only,  but  upon  the  whole  town  of 
Deptford,  to  whom  Jack  was  nothing  short  of  a  hero. 

"  There  is  nothing,"  said  my  father,  in  the  next  Sunday's 
sermon — "  there  is  nothing,  my  brethren,  upon  this  earth  which 
is  stable.  Our  riches  make  themselves  wings  and  fly  away ; 
disease  falls  upon  the  stoutest  and  strongest  of  us;  old  age 
palsies  our  limbs;  death  snatches  away  the  youngest  and 
brightest.  Even  in  the  very  spring  and  heyday  of  life,  when 
promise  is  strongest  and  hope  most  assured,  the  qualities  of 
which  we  are  so  proud  may  fail  us  suddenly  and  without  warn- 
ing, so  that  the  brave  man  may  lose  his  courage,  the  loyal  man 
become  a  traitor,  and  the  strong  man  fall  into  the  weakness  of 
a  girl.  Remember  this,  my  brethren,  and  in  the  day  of  your 
strength  be  humble."  Those  who  listened  applied  the  words 
to  the  disgraced  captain  and  hung  their  heads. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          347 

But  the  admiral  and  his  household  were  not  in  church.  They 
sat  at  home,  the  flag  half-mast  high,  madam  and  Castilla,  by  the 
admiral's  orders,  in  black,  as  if  in  mourning  for  one  who  is  lately 
dead. 

"  He  is  dead,  Luke,"  said  the  brave  old  man.  "  My  gallant 
boy,  the  son  of  my  old  friend,  my  son-in-law  who  was  to  be,  is 
truly  dead.  How  he  died,  and  where,  1  know  not.  But  he  is 
dead,  and  his  body  is  occupied  by  an  evil  spirit.  What !  shall 
we  be  ashamed  because  this  cowardly  devil  hath  struck  the 
colors?  'Tis  not  our  boy.  He  is  dead.  Castilla  weeps  for 
him ;  but  as  for  me,  I  always  looked  that  he  might  die  early, 
as  so  many  others  do — being  killed  in  action,  or  cast  away.  As 
yet  we  know  not  how  he  died,  or  how  the  devil  was  permitted 
to  walk  about  in  his  body.  Perhaps  we  shall  never  learn." 
But  here  he  broke  off  and  choked.  "What  an  ending! — what 
an  ending  is  here ! — truly,  what  an  ending  !  Why,  if  one  had 
foreseen  it,  'twould  have  been  a  Christian  act  to  put  a  knife 
into  the  boy's  heart  when  he  came  here  sixteen  years  ago ;  and 
a  joyful  thing,  had  one  only  known  beforehand  what  would 
happen,  to  be  hanged  for  it  afterwards." 

I  said  that  I  hoped  he  would  be  able  to  write  us  some  words 
of  consolation. 

"  Consolation !  Why,  the  captain  struck  his  flag  without 
firing  a  shot !  Consolation  ?  There  are  some  things,  my  lad, 
which  can  never  be  forgiven  or  forgotten.  Cowardly  to  sur- 
render is  the  chief  of  these.  Cowardly !  Oh,  that  it  should 
seem  possible  to  use  that  word  of  our  boy !" 

Then  I  said  that  it  would  be  best  for  him  to  stay  abroad,  and 
never  to  return  to  England. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  admiral,  "  unless  he  should  resolve  to  come 
back  and  be  shot.  The  women  say  he  is  bewitched.  But  who 
should  bewitch  him  ?  No ;  our  boy  is  dead,  and  some  evil  spirit 
is  in  his  body." 

This  was  the  only  consolation  that  the  poor  old  admiral  per- 
mitted himself.  Yet  it  did  not  console.  He  stayed  at  home, 
being  so  covered  with  shame  that  he  durst  not  venture  forth, 
lest  the  boys  should  point  at  him.  He  told  me  so ;  and  it 
went  to  my  heart  thus  to  see  this  brave  old  man  wounded  and 
bleeding,  yet  to  know  no  single  word  of  consolation. 

"  Luke,"  said  Castilla,  "  do  not,  if  you  please,  mention  his 


J348  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

name  to  me.  We  must  resign  ourselves  to  the  heavenly  will. 
No  doubt  this  affliction  hath  been  designed  for  some  wise  end." 

This  must  always  be  the  Christian's  view ;  yet  in  my  igno- 
rance I  have  sometimes  questioned  the  course  of  events  which 
thus  afflicted  and  presently  destroyed  a  brave  man  in  his  old 
age,  undeserving  of  this  disgrace. 

I  know  not  who  first  started  the  rumor — perhaps  it  was  Mr. 
Brinjes  himself — but  it  was  presently  spread  over  all  the  town 
that  the  captain  was  bewitched.  And  so  great  was  the  popular 
indignation,  that  had  the  people  known  what  had  passed  with 
Bess  Westmoreland,  I  make  no  doubt  they  would  have  mur- 
dered her.  Fortunately,  there  was  no  suspicion  at  all.  No  one 
had  seen  them  together,  or  knew  that  there  had  been  any  love 
passages  between  them,  or  any  jealousy.  Most  certainly  they 
would  have  murdered  her,  the  women  especially  being  full  of 
wrath  against  the  unknown  author  of  this  misfortune. 

But  I  was  uneasy — listening  to  the  talk  of  these  termagants, 
as  they  gathered  in  the  streets,  and  cried  out  what  should  be 
done  to  the  witch — lest  some  one  should  turn  suspicion  upon 
Bess.  As  for  Philadelphy,  who  would  have  been  suspected,  it 
was  known  that  the  captain  was  to  marry  her  young  mistress, 
and  therefore  she  could  not  be  the  witch.  Now,  of  wise  wom- 
en, who  know  the  properties  of  simples,  and  can  read  the  signs 
of  good  and  bad  luck,  and  tell  fortunes  by  cards,  there  are  al- 
ways plenty ;  but  of  witches  there  was  in  Deptford  only  one, 
and  of  wizards  only  one,  and  both  of  them  known  to  be  friends 
of  the  captain. 

"  It  is  true,  Luke,"  said  Bess  Westmoreland,  when  I  found 
her  in  the  usual  place.  "  Do  not  talk  as  if  it  were  not  true, 
because  I  am  assured  that  the  news  is  true.  Why,  I  knew  that 
something  terrible  was  going  to  fall  upon  him.  Mr.  Brinjes 
says  there  may  be  some  mistake  in  the  evidence  of  Captain 
Boys ;  but  I  know  better.  It  is  quite  true.  What  will  happen 
next,  I  know  not.  But  I  shall  have  my  lover  back  again,  what- 
ever happens.  The  fortune  always  ended  in  the  same  way, 
with  love  at  last." 

"  Whatever  happens,  Bess  ?  Why,  he  is  now  a  prisoner  of 
war,  and,  unless  exchanged,  will  remain  a  prisoner  till  the  war 
is  ended.  And  if  he  ever  return  he  will  be  tried  and  shot." 

"  Then  he  will  stay  where  he  is,  and  send  for  me,"  she  re- 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          349 

plied,  as  if  the  recovery  of  her  lover,  should  that  be  brought 
about,  would  be  cheaply  purchased  at  the  cost  of  his  honor. 
But  women  know  little  of  man's  regard  for  honor.  "  He  will 
send  for  me ;  and  if  it  were  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  I  would 
go  to  him." 

"  Bess,"  I  whispered,  "  it  is  rumored  abroad  in  the  town  that 
he  was  bewitched.  Is  there  any  one  who  knows  what  passed 
between  him  and  you  when  last  you  saw  him  ?" 

"  No  one  knows  except  you,  Luke.  Aaron  knows,  but  he  is 
away." 

"  Then  speak  to  no  one  about  it.  Let  it  not  be  suspected 
that  you  predicted  this  disaster,  or  the  people,  I  verily  believe, 
would  burn  you  for  a  witch,  Bess." 

"  Why,  are  they  such  fools  as  to  think  that  I  would  suffer  a 
hair  of  his  head  to  be  touched  if  I  could  help  it?  For  Jack 
loved  me  once — how  he  loved  me  once ! — three  years  ago ! 
And  I — oh  !  I  love  him  always.  What  do  I  care  what  he  has 
done  ?  Let  him  but  hold  up  his  finger  to  me  and  I  will  go  to 
him.  I  will  be  his  slave.  Oh !  Luke,  I  would  suffer  gladly 
that  he  kicked  and  flogged  me  daily,  so  that  he  loved  me. 
What  do  I  care  about  his  disgrace?  That  touches  not  me. 
My  Jack  will  always  be  the  same  to  me,  whatever  people  may 
say  of  him." 

"  My  poor  Bess,"  I  said.  "  Indeed,  he  hath  a  constant  mis- 
tress. But,  my  dear,  do  not  look  to  see  him  more.  I  fear  we 
shall  never  be  able  to  set  eyes  on  his  face  again,  for  he  cannot 
show  his  face  among  his  fellows.  The  common  fellow  pays  for 
his  sins  with  a  flogging,  and  when  his  back  is  healed  he  thinks 
no  more  of  the  matter.  But  the  captain — look  you,  Bess — it 
is  a  most  dreadful  thing.  For,  whatever  happens,  he  can  never 
more  sit  among  honorable  men." 

"  He  shall  sit  with  me,  then,"  said  Bess.  "  As  for  what  I 
told  him,  the  words  were  put  into  my  head — I  know  not  how. 
They  were  a  message.  I  was  made  to  tell  him.  They  were 
not  my  words ;  wherefore  I  knew  that  they  would  come  true." 

Thus,  while  the  rest  of  us  were  overwhelmed  with  shame, 
she  who  loved  him  best  (because  now  I  clearly  understood  that 
Castilla  had  never  loved  him  so  well,  else  she  could  not  have 
been  so  quickly  and  so  easily  resigned  to  her  loss)  thought  lit- 
tle of  the  deed  and  much  of  the  man.  Thus  it  is  that  a  woman 


350  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

may  love  a  man  so  that  whatever  he  does,  whether  he  succeed 
or  fail,  even  if  he  does  disgraceful  and  shameful  things,  she 
will  love  him  steadfastly.  In  Bess's  simple  words,  he  is  always 
the  same  man  for  her. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  I  am  very  sure  that  the  lad 
was  bewitched.  I  know  not  by  whom,  because  Philadelphy 
would  work  all  the  charms  she  knows  for  his  help,  for  Miss 
Castilla's  sake.  But  bewitched  he  was.  "Wherefore,  Luke,  my 
lad,  I  shall  wait  until  we  learn  where  he  is  at  present  bestowed, 
and  then  I  shall  send  him  a  letter.  He  must  not  look  for  a  re- 
turn to  England  at  any  time,  unless  he  join  himself  with  the 
Pretender,  and  hopes  to  return  with  him.  But  no :  he  must 
never  return  at  all.  And  as  for  that  young  man,  he  is  now 
near  forty,  and  will  never  come  to  England  again,  I  take  it. 
But  though  Jack  cannot  come  back  here,  I  see  no  reason  why 
we  should  not  go  to  him;  and  so  we  might  together  set  sail 
for  the  Southern  Seas,  and  there  dig  up  my  treasure,  and  equip 
and  man  a  stout  squadron  for  the  harassing  of  the  Spanish 
fleets." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brinjes,"  I  told  him,  "  you  are  now  an  old  man 
— ninety  years  and  more,  as  you  have  told  us  often.  Is  it  for 
a  man  of  ninety  years  to  brave  the  hardships  of  the  sea  once 
more  ?" 

"  Hardships !  Little  you  know  of  peaceful  sailing  among 
the  sunny  waters  of  the  islands.  There  are  no  hardships  and 
no  discomforts.  Why,  'twould  make  me  twenty  years  younger 
to  be  back  again  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  in  those  latitudes. 
I  should  be  little  more  than  seventy.  What  is  seventy?  A 
man  is  still  green  at  seventy :  he  is  in  the  full  vigor  of  his  man- 
hood ;  there  is  nothing  that  I  could  not  do  at  seventy,  ay,  and 
as  well  as  the  youngest  of  them  all,  save  that  my  limbs  were  a 
trifle  stiff,  and  I  no  longer  cared  to  run  and  jump.  But  that 
stiffness  sometimes  falls  on  a  man  at  six-and-thirty,  wherefore 
I  could  not  complain.  Seventy  !  Ah  !  To  be  seventy  again, 
with  thirty  years  more  to  live  !  And  then,  if  one  were  so  lucky 
as  to  fall  upon  the  great  secret,  another  thirty,  and  another 
thirty  after  that,  and  so  on  as  long  as  one  chose  to  live.  And 
that,  my  lad,  I  promise  you,  would  be  until  I  understood  clearly 
what  was  on  the  other  side."  Thus  he  went  on  chattering,  hav- 
ing almost  forgotten  how  we  began  to  talk  :  to  forget  the  things 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  351 

of  the  present  day  is  ever  a  sign  or  proof  of  great  age.  "Ah !" 
he  sighed,  heavily,  "  would  to  God  that  I  could  find  myself  once 
more  aboard  a  tight  vessel  on  the  Pacific  Seas,  with  plenty  of 
men  and  lemons,  and  some  music  for  the  lads  in  the  evenings, 
and  for  amusement,  taking  a  ship  now  and  then,  and  making 
the  Spaniard  walk  the  plank !  Jack  should  be  our  captain,  and 
Bess  should  go  with  us — I  could  not  go  away  from  Deptford 
without  Bess,  and  her  heart  is  always  set  on  Jack.  Yet  I  do 
not- remember  any  women  among  the  Rovers  except  Mary  Read 
and  Ann  Bonny,  and  they  dressed  like  men,  and  pretended  to 
be  men.  They  sailed  under  Captain  Rackarn,  and  a  brave  pair 
of  wenches  they  were.  I  dreamed  last  night  that  we  were  all 
three  on  the  poop  of  as  fine  a  schooner  as  one  could  wish,  bound 
for  the  South  Seas,  by  way  of  the  Indian  Ocean." 

So  we  lost  our  hero.  At  least,  so  we  thought  we  had  lost 
him.  He  was  taken  to  a  French  prison.  He  would  never  be 
so  mad  as  to  return  to  England,  where  certain  death  awaited 
him.  We  should  never  see  him  again.  And,  as  Captain  Peth- 
erick  truly  said,  we  were  all  shamed  by  an  act  as  truly  cowardly 
as  ever  British  sailor  committed.  The  newspapers  continued 
to  speak  of  it ;  the  evidence  of  Captain  Boys  was  printed  in 
full,  and  there  were  more  epigrams.  And  then  other  things 
happened ;  and  the  loss  of  the  Calypso  would  have  been  speed- 
ily forgotten  but  for  a  surprising  and  unexpected  turn,  which 
was,  so  to  speak,  a  second  act  in  this  tragedy  of  Jack  Easter- 
brook's  end. 

Truly  surprising  and  unexpected  it  was,  and  the  intelligence 
of  it  threw  us  all  into  an  agitation  worse,  if  possible,  than  the 
first.  For  we  were  assured  that  the  worst  was  over.  The  first 
blow  fell  upon  us  like  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear  sky,  and  now 
we  were  rising  to  our  feet  again  (except  the  admiral),  stunned 
and  confused,  yet  in  a  fair  way  of  recovery,  as  happens  in  every 
earthly  calamity,  else  'twould  be  impossible  to  live.  The  child 
we  love — nay,  the  woman  we  love — dies,  yet  behold  the  sun 
rises  and  sets,  and  presently  the  daily  life  goes  on  as  before, 
and  the  loss  is  partly  forgotten.  Suppose,  however,  the  woman 
were  not  dead,  but  came  to  life  again,  only  to  die  with  more 
cruel  suffering  and  with  shame  ! 

What  happened,  in  a  word,  was  this. 


352  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

The  crew  of  the  prize  had  orders  to  take  the  Calypso  to 
Brest,  which  was  the  nearest  French  port.  They  ordered  their 
prisoners  below  to  the  quarters  always  designed  for  men  in  that 
unhappy  position,  namely,  the  forward  portion  of  the  cockpit, 
where  they  have  to  sit  in  gloom,  lit  only  by  one  great  ship's 
lantern  all  day  and  all  night,  save  for  such  times  as  they  are 
allowed  on  deck  for  fresh  air  in  gangs  and  small  companies. 
When  the  Englishmen  were  driven  below,  and  the  prize  crew 
appointed,  the  Malicieuse  parted  company,  and  the  Calypso  was 
left  to  make  her  own  way  to  Brest. 

"  On  the  second  day,"  we  read  in  the  London  Post,  "  the 
prisoners  rose,  and  became  again  masters  of  the  ship,  which 
was  brought  into  Spithead  under  the  first  lieutenant,  the  cap- 
tain being  kept  a  prisoner  in  his  cabin.  This  extraordinary  re- 
versal of  fortune,  and  other  circumstances  attending  the  case, 
have  excited  the  greatest  interest.  The  lords  commissioners 
have  ordered  the  ship  to  be  brought  to  Deptford,  where  the 
court-martial  on  Captain  Easterbrook  will  be  held." 

As  is  usual  in  news  published  by  authority  in  the  Gazette, 
and  copied  by  other  newspapers,  there  were  no  particulars  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  ship  was  recovered,  except  that  she 
was  navigated  by  the  first  lieutenant.  Had  the  crew,  then,  mu- 
tinied against  their  captain,  and  confined  him  to  his  cabin  ?  If 
not,  how  was  he  a  prisoner  ? 

It  was  impossible  for  me,  who  knew  the  whole  circumstances 
of  the  case,  not  to  feel  that  in  this  surprising  reversal  of  fort- 
une, and  in  the  ordering  of  the  court-martial,  there  was  a  direct 
interposition  of  the  hand  of  Providence,  such  as  may  well  make 
the  guilty  tremble.  To  lose  life,  and  honor  as  well,  which  is 
dearer  than  life,  as  a  penalty  for  broken  vows,  seems  a  terrible 
punishment,  and  out  of  proportion  to  the  offence.  But  it  is 
not  every  inconstant  lover  who  hath  expressly  called  down  upon 
his  own  head,  as  Jack  did,  the  wrath  of  God  in  case  of  his  in- 
constancy. Man  cannot  with  impunity  call  upon  the  name  of 
the  Lord.  There  is  a  story  of  one  who  learned  how  to  draw 
the  lightnings  out  of  heaven,  but  he  drew  them  upon  himself, 
and  so  perished.  Was  not  this  the  fate  of  Jack  Easterbrook  ? 
Alas !  we  were  now  wholly  without  hope.  For  needs  must 
that  he  be  tried ;  and  he  was  condemned  already,  and  as  good 
as  shot.  While  he  was  prisoner  with  the  French,  his  life  at 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  353 

least  was  safe ;  and  if  lie  chose  never  to  return,  he  could  cer- 
tainly never  be  tried;  and  so  his  case  would  be  in  the  course 
of  time  forgotten.  But  now  he  must  be  tried,  and  he  must  be 
condemned. 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  "  he  shall  call  me  as  a  witness ;  and 
I  will  prove  from  books  and  from  mine  own  experience  that 
there  have  happened  many  cases  of  sudden  madness,  and  that 
in  such  an  access  or  seizure  a  man  is  not  master  of  himself. 
And  those  who  have  travelled  much  in  countries  where  the  sun 
is  hot,  and  especially  those  who  have  wandered,  as  the  boy  did, 
among  savages,  with  insufficient  food,  and  perhaps  no  covering 
for  the  head,  are  more  than  others  liable  to  such  fits — instances 
of  which  I  can  produce.  It  will  also  be  set  forth  that  the  cap- 
tain, not  long  before  he  sailed,  received  so  heavy  a  blow  upon 
the  head  that  he  was  carried  senseless  through  the  town  and 
across  the  river.  Such  a  blow  may  of  itself  produce  the  effect 
of  sudden  madness.  Men  who  have  proved  themselves  brave 
sailors  and  fond  of  fight  do  not,  unless  from  this  cause,  sud- 
denly become  cowardly.  Why,  he  crowded  all  sail  to  get  with- 
in range  of  the  enemy." 

"  Yet  he  struck  his  flag,"  I  said.  "  Is  every  man  who  runs 
away,  after  marching  resolutely  to  meet  the  enemy,  to  plead 
that  he  was  smitten  with  a  sudden  madness  ?" 

As  for  the  value  of  such  evidence,  I  know  not  what  it  would 
have  availed,  but  I  think  it  would  have  availed  nothing  in  the 
eyes  of  the  officers  who  formed  the  court.  But,  as  you  will 
presently  see,  it  never  was  produced.  Perhaps  the  knowledge 
of  what  he  could  testify  gave  the  apothecary  an  inward  assur- 
ance which  comforted  him.  For  he  showed  no  alarm,  and 
maintained  stoutly  that  his  own  evidence,  with  the  prisoner's 
previous  good  conduct,  would  get  Jack  acquitted,  if  it  did  not 
get  him  reinstated  in  command. 

But  courts,  whether  martial  or  civil,  do  not  thus  examine 
into  motives  and  causes.  If  a  judge  were  to  hear  why  a  pocket 
came  to  be  picked,  or  by  what  train  of  circumstances  an  honest 
man  has  been  turned  into  a  rogue,  there  would  be  no  punish- 
ment at  all,  but  rather  general  commiseration  for  sin,  and  for- 
giveness of  all  sinners,  on  the  score  of  ^human  weakness  and 
the  strength  of  temptation. 

As  for  Bess,  when  she  heard  that  the  captain  was  a  prisoner 


354  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

and  on  his  way  to  meet  his  trial,  she  said  nothing,  except  that 
whatever  happened  the  end  was  certain ;  and  she  waited.  Her 
wrath  and  fierceness  were  all  gone ;  she  was  now  gentle  and 
calm,  though  her  cheek  was  pale,  and  round  her  eyes  a  black 
ring,  by  which  I  knew  that  she  slept  little  and  thought  of  Jack 
continually. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


Lo  !  when  we  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  Calypso  herself  was 
lying  in  the  river,  moored  nearly  opposite  to  the  mouth  of  the 
dock. 

I  made  haste  to  the  King's  Yard,  in  order  to  hear  the  news, 
and  there,  as  I  expected,  I  found  a  little  knot  of  gentlemen,  in 
eluding  Captain  Petherick,  the  chief  officer  of  the  yard,  and  a 
few  who,  like  myself,  were  brought  thither  by  anxiety  and  curi- 
osity. They  were  earnestly  conversing  with  the  first  lieutenant 
of  the  ship.  He  was  a  man  whose  hair  was  now  grown  com- 
pletely gray  (wherefore  he  no  longer  used  powder),  being  some 
fifty-five  years  of  age,  but  for  want  of  interest  never  having  got 
any  higher.  By  birth  he  was  a  Scotchman  ;  he  had,  like  many 
of  his  countrymen,  a  hard  and  strongly  marked  face,  and  his 
manner  of  speech  was  hard  and  slow,  so  that  though  he  had 
such  a  tale  to  tell  as  surely  never  was  heard  before,  his  manner 
of  telling  it  never  varied  even  in  the  most  astonishing  parts  of 
his  narrative,  except  that  now  and  then  he  broke  off  to  express 
his  own  opinion  on  the  matter.  We  presently,  however,  dis- 
covered that  he  felt  great  commiseration  for  the  unhappy  fate 
of  his  captain,  young  enough  to  be  his  son,  and  that  he  held 
much  the  same  view  as  the  towns-people,  namely,  that  there 
must  be  witchcraft  at  the  bottom  of  the  affair.  We  learned 
also  that  the  recapture  of  the  ship  would  now  present  a  very 
different  complexion,  being  due,  not  as  had  been  supposed,  to 
a  general  rising  of  the  crew,  but  to  the  most  astonishing  cour- 
age of  the  captain  himself,  and  the  display  of  reckless  daring 
in  a  single-handed  attack  upon  the  prize  crew  such  as  one  had 
never  read  of  or  heard  of  before. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  355 

As  regards  the  striking  of  the  colors,  there  was  nothing  new 
in  what  we  learned.  The  captain  with  his  own  hand  did  cer- 
tainly haul  down  the  flag  without  firing  a  shot.  Against  that 
damning  and  capital  fact  nothing  could  be  said.  But  as  for 
what  followed,  you  shall  hear  the  first  lieutenant's  story. 

"  When  the  captain  struck  his  colors,  which  he  did  with  his 
own  hand,  the  men  looking  on  in  sheer  amazement,  I  myself 
ran  to  him,  crying,  i  For  God's  sake,  captain !  for  God's  sake, 
sir,  consider  what  you  do !'  But  the  captain  drew  his  hanger 
and  slashed  at  me,  so  that,  though  the  flat  of  the  sword  only 
struck  me,  I  fell  senseless.  Then,  as  I  have  since  been  told, 
those  officers  whose  place  was  on  deck  stood  back,  terrified  by 
the  wild  looks  and  furious  gestures  of  the  captain.  So  great 
was  the  authority  which  he  possessed  that  not  a  man  among 
them  all  dared  so  much  as  to  murmur.  Then  the  Frenchman 
boarded  us,  and  all  except  the  captain,  who  was  suffered  to  re- 
main on  deck,  and  myself  because  I  was  senseless,  were  bun- 
dled below,  and  the  hatches  clapped  down.  When  I  presently 
recovered,  I  too  was  allowed  to  remain  above.  Now  for  two 
nights  and  two  days  the  captain  sat  on  the  quarter-deck,  upon 
the  trunnion  of  a  carronade,  his  hat  off,  his  hands  upon  his 
knees,  his  eyes  blood-red,  his  face  pale.  Gentlemen,"  cried 
the  first  lieutenant,  breaking  off  suddenly  at  this  point,  "  'twould 
have  moved  a  heart  of  stone  only  to  look  upon  the  captain  in 
this  misery  of  shame.  Despair  was  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned 
them  from  the  sea  to  the  ship,  and  from  the  ship  to  the  sea. 
As  for  what  the  men  think,  there  is  but  one  opinion :  that  it 
was  the  work  of  the  devil.  He  was  bewitched  or  possessed. 
I  know  not  if  we  have  the  right  to  try  a  man  for  an  act  done 
under  demoniac  possession,  which  we  know  to  be  sometimes 
permitted.  But  the  madness  had  now  left  him,  and  he  was  in 
his  right  mind  again." 

There  was  not  one  of  those  present  who  heard  this  with  a 
dry  eye.  But  more  moving  things  still  were  to  follow. 

"  It  was  on  the  third  day  after  the  surrender,"  the  first  lieu- 
tenant told  us,  "  and  in  the  forenoon,  the  usual  guard  being 
set,  the  French  officers  and  sailors  all  armed,  and  their  com- 
mander on  the  quarter-deck.  In  the  waist  was  gathered  to- 
gether a  small  party  of  prisoners  taking  their  spell  of  fresh 
air ;  they  were  lolling  in  the  sun,  or  looking  over  the  bulwarks 


356  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

in  the  hope  of  discovering  an  English  flag.  Nothing  was  fur- 
ther from  their  thoughts  than  an  attempt  to  recapture  the  Ca- 
lypso. On  that  point  there  could  be  no  doubt.  They  talked 
with  each  other  in  low  voices,  being  very  much  dejected  at  the 
position  of  their  affairs,  and  the  prospect  of  a  French  prison, 
and  they  looked  at  their  captain,  who  sat  bareheaded  on  the 
quarter-deck.  He,  too,  like  themselves,  was  unarmed,  and  he 
sat  without  moving  or  making  any  sign  of  life. 

"  Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  caught  the  French 
officer,  a  much  smaller  man  than  himself,  by  the  throat,  tore 
his  sword  from  him,  and  cut  him  down.  The  two  sentinels 
rushed  upon  him  with  their  bayonets,  but  he  lightly  leaped 
aside,  and  cut  them  down  too.  Then,  armed  with  the  sword, 
he  sprang  into  the  waist,  and  crying,  '  Men  of  the  Calypso,  to 
the  rescue  of  your  ship  !'  he  attacked  the  Frenchmen,  cutting 
them  down  and  driving  all  before  him  like  a  madman. 

"  There  is  a  tall,  stout  fellow  aboard,  one  of  our  marines. 
He  was  on  deck  at  the  time,  and  was  the  first  who  recovered 
presence  of  mind  (the  rest  being  clean  taken  aback  by  the  sud- 
denness of  the  thing).  He  seized  a  rammer,  and  sprang  to 
the  side  of  the  captain,  fighting  with  him  and  protecting  him. 
Mark  you,  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  brave  fellow  the  captain 
would  have  been  killed  a  dozen  times  over,  as  I  doubt  not  he 
wished  to  be,  seeing  the  reckless  way  in  which  he  attacked  the 
enemy.  Nay,  I  wonder  that  in  spite  of  this  help  he  was  not 
killed,  seeing  that  they  fired  their  pistols  in  his  very  face,  and 
thrust  at  him  with  bayonets,  and  cut  at  him  with  swords ;  but 
all  in  vain.  A  fine  sight  it  was,  and  such  as  will  never  be  wit- 
nessed again  by  any  of  us,  to  see  this  hero  fighting  the  whole 
of  the  prize  crew  single-handed  save  for  the  marine,  who  seemed 
to  have  no  other  thought  than  to  protect  his  captain,  and  laid 
about  him  with  his  rammer  as  if  it  had  been  a  quarter-staff. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  you  may  be  very  sure  that  it  was  not 
very  long  before  the  rest  of  the  English  sailors  on  deck  joined 
in  with  a  true  British  cheer,  fighting  with  whatever  weapons 
they  could  pick  up — namely,  one  with  a  marling-spike,  one 
with  a  hammer,  one  with  his  fist,  one  with  a  dead  Frenchman's 
bayonet,  and  so  on — until  in  a  few  minutes  we  had  the  satis- 
faction of  driving  our  conquerors  under  hatches,  calling  up  our 
crew,  and  running  up  the  union-jack.  The  captain  it  was  who 


"  Then  the  captain  struck  his  colors,  which  he  did  with  his  own  hand, 
the  men  looking  on  in  sheer  amazement" 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  357 

hauled  it  up  with  his  own  hand.  His  face  was  black  with  pow- 
der, and  streaked  with  blood,  though  he  had  not  received  a 
scratch  ;  his  hands  were  red  with  blood,  and  his  sword  stream- 
ing ;  on  the  deck  lay  a  dozen  dead  and  wounded,  though  some 
of  them  only  stunned  with  the  marine's  rammer.  When  the 
flag  was  up,  the  captain  saluted  it,  and  called  on  his  men  to 
give  three  cheers,  which  they  did  with  a  will.  After  that  he 
ordered  a  double  ration  of  rum,  and  every  man  to  his  duty. 

"  Then  he  turned  to  me.  l  Mr.  Macdonald,'  he  said,  '  I  would 
to  God  your  captain  was  lying  dead  among  those  poor  wretches,' 
pointing  to  the  slain.  I  told  him  to  take  courage,  because  it 
was  by  his  act,  and  his  alone,  that  the  vessel  was  recaptured. 
Then  he  hesitated  awhile,  and  fetched  a  sigh  as  if  his  heart 
was  breaking. 

"  '  Whose  hand  hauled  down  the  flag  ?'  he  asked. 

"  I  waited  to  hear  what  more  he  had  to  say. 

"  *  Where  is  the  man,'  he  asked,  '  who  fought  beside  me 
just  now.  I  mean  the  man  who  interposed  to  save  my  life?' 

"  I  called  the  man,  who  stepped  forward  and  saluted. 

"  '  So,'  said  the  captain,  *  'tis  my  old  friend.  Sirrah,  twice 
hast  thou  endeavored  to  take  my  life,  out  of  revenge.  Once 
hast  thou  saved  it.  Thou  hast  thy  revenge  at  last,  and  in  full 
measure.  Return  to  duty.' 

"  I  know  not,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  first  lieutenant, 
"  what  the  captain  meant  by  those  words,  for  the  man  saluted 
and  stepped  back  to  his  place,  making  no  reply,  either  by  look 
or  speech.  Then  the  captain  gave  me  his  last  orders.  *  You 
will  take  the  command  of  this  ship,  sir,'  he  said.  *  You  will 
enter  in  the  captain's  log  a  full  account  of  the  circumstances 
connected  with  the  surrender  and  the  recapture  of  the  Calypso. 
Disguise  nothing,  sir.  Nothing  must  be  omitted.  Write  that 
the  captain  hauled  down  the  flag.  Write  that  the  captain  cut 
down  the  first  lieutenant,  who  would  have  remonstrated.  Write 
that  there  was  not  a  single  shot  fired,  and  the  enemy  carried 
less  weight  of  metal  and  a  smaller  crew.' 

"  *  With  respect,  sir,'  I  told  him,  « I  shall  also  write  that  the 
captain  retook  the  vessel  single-handed.' 

"  *  Write,  further,  that  the  captain  gave  over  the  command 
to  you,  with  instructions  to  take  the  ship  to  Spithead,  the 
whereabouts  of  the  admiral  not  being  known,  there  to  report 


358  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

on  what  has  happened,  and  to  await  the  instructions  of  my 
lords  the  commissioners.' 

" '  Gentlemen,'  the  first  lieutenant  concluded,  *  I  obeyed  or- 
ders. I  sailed  to  Spithead,  and  reported  the  circumstances  of 
the  case.  The  commissioners  have  ordered  me  to  bring  the 
ship  round  to  Deptford,  the  captain  aboard  her,  prisoner,  wait- 
ing his  court-martial.  We  hope  that  though  he  certainly  struck 
the  colors,  his  subsequent  conduct  may  save  his  life.  For 
most  certainly  he  was  mad  when  he  did  it,  or  bewitched,  or 
possessed  of  a  devil.  But  he  is  mad  no  longer.  I  forgot  to 
say,  gentlemen,  that  although  for  two  days  he  refused  to  take 
anything,  and  I  verily  believe  he  intended  to  starve  himself  to 
death,  he  has  since  eaten  and  drunk  heartily." 

This  was  the  story  as  the  first  lieutenant  told  it. 

Now  when  we  heard  it  we  were  in  a  doubt  what  to  do.  For 
to  neglect  the  unhappy  prisoner  altogether  would  seem  heart- 
less, whereas  to  try  and  see  him,  unless  he  manifested  a  desire 
to  see  us,  would  seem  like  intrusion.  He  sat  in  his  cabin,  we 
heard,  all  day,  and  at  night,  when  it  was  dark,  walked  upon 
the  quarter-deck.  He  spoke  with  no  one  save  the  first  lieu- 
tenant, and  made  no  reference  to  the  approaching  trial,  the 
day  for  which  they  expected  would  be  fixed  very  shortly. 

First,  however,  my  father  wrote  to  him,  and  asked  if  he 
would  wish  to  see  him ;  but  received  a  letter,  thanking  him, 
indeed,  and  putting  off  his  visit  until,  the  writer  said,  he  should 
be  forced  to  contemplate  the  near  approach  of  death.  Next, 
Mr.  Brinjes  sent  a  message  that  he  wished  to  see  him  as  his 
physician  (a  title  which  he  assumed  when  he  pleased) ;  but 
the  captain  returned  word  that  he  had  never  been  in  better 
health. 

As  for  myself,  I  waited  for  some  days,  not  venturing  to  in- 
trude upon  his  suffering,  yet  desirous  of  seeing  him.  At  last 
I  wrote  a  letter,  begging  him  to  tell  me  if  I  could  do  anything 
for  him.  To  which  he  replied  that  he  would  take  it  kindly  if 
I  would  come  aboard  and  see  him  in  his  cabin.  I  obeyed  with 
a  sinking  heart,  for,  indeed,  what  consolation  could  I  adminis- 
ter, or  with  what  countenance  could  I  greet  him,  or  coulci  I 
pretend  that  he  was  not  overwhelmed  with  shame  ? 

When  I  went  on  board  I  was  astonished  to  find,  acting  as 
sentry  at  the  top  of  the  companion,  no  other  than  Aaron 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         359 


Fletcher.  I  knew  not  that  he  was  on  board  the  Cat 
Strange,  indeed,  that  he  should  now  be  mounting  guard  as 
marine  over  the  man  whom  he  had  many  times  fought,  and 
twice  tried  to  murder.  He  made  no  sign  of  recognition  as  I 
passed  him. 

Jack  was  in  his  cabin,  sitting  at  his  window,  leaning  his  head 
upon  his  hand  and  gazing  upon  the  river,  with  the  crowd  of 
craft  upon  it.  He  turned  his  head  when  I  opened  the  door, 
and  rose  to  meet  me. 

"  Luke,"  he  said,  "  canst  take  the  hand  of  a  coward  wretch 
who  hath  surrendered  his  ship  without  a  blow  ?  Nay,  nay,  lad  ; 
tears  will  not  help,  and  I  am  not  worth  a  tear,  or  anything  now 
but  to  be  shot  like  a  cur,  and  rolled  up  in  a  bit  of  sacking,  and 
so  tossed  into  the  water  and  forgotten." 

I  asked  after  his  health,  but  he  put  me  off. 

"  Health  ?"  he  cried.  "  What  matters  my  health  ?  If  you 
can  pick  up  a  small-pox,  or  a  galloping  consumption,  or  a  fever, 
and  send  it  to  me,  the  worse  the  complaint  the  better  I  shall 
like  it ;  or  if  Mr.  Brinjes,  who  can  cause  all  diseases,  will  send 
me  one  that  will  suddenly  tear  out  my  heart  or  stop  my  breath, 
it  would  be  very  much  to  the  point  at  the  present  juncture. 
My  health  ?  Why,  as  the  devil  will  have  it,  it  was  never  bet- 
ter." He  laughed.  "  Go  tell  Mr.  Brinjes,  or  his  swivel-eyed 
assistant,  to  make  me  up  a  disease  or  two  in  that  saucepan  of 
his  that  is  always  on  the  hob.  'Tis  a  crafty  old  man,  and  first 
cousin,  I  verily  believe,  to  the  devil." 

He  paused  awhile,  thinking  what  next  to  tell  me. 

"  Tell  the  admiral —  No,  not  yet ;  after  my  death  thou 
shalt  tell  him  all  the  truth,  which  I  will  tell  thee  directly.  I 
cannot  write  to  that  good  old  man  ;  yet,  Luke,  I  must  send 
him  some  message.  Therefore —  But  no,  there  are  no  words 
that  I  can  send  him.  I  cannot  ask  his  forgiveness,  because  he 
can  never  forgive  me.  I  cannot  thank  him  for  all  his  kind- 
ness, because  I  am  not  worthy  now  so  much  as  to  send  a  word 
of  gratitude.  Let  be— let  be.  When  I  am  dead  thou  shalt 
tell  him  the  truth.  As  for  Castilla,  she  must  forget  me.  Tell 
her  that,  Luke.  I  am  certain  that  she  will  soon  console  herself. 
She  never  loved  me  as  poor  Bess  used  to  love  me.  There  is  Mr. 
Brinjes ;  tell  him — why,  tell  him  that  he  must  look  for  another 
sailor  to  steer  his  ship  among  the  islands  of  the  southern  seas." 


360  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"Jack,"  I  said,  "it -is  terrible." 

"  Yes,  it  is  terrible.  It  is  very  terrible,  lad.  But  it  must  be 
endured.  Trust  me  that  I  shall  not  stand  snivelling  before  the 
file  of  marines  at  the  end.  That  is,  unless  there  be  another — " 
Here  he  paused,  and  in  his  eyes  there  was  apparent  a  look  of 
such  terror  as  I  have  never  since  seen  in  any  man's  eyes, 
while  his  cheeks  turned  white,  and  drops  stood  upon  his  brow. 
"  Unless,"  he  said  again,  "  there  comes  another — "  Here  he 
broke  off  again.  "  Luke,"  he  said,  "  if  at  the  end  I  die  craven, 
know  of  a  surety  that  I  die  unf orgiven,  and  that  my  soul  is 
lost.  But  it  cannot  be  that  death  will  not  atone."  So  he 
paced  his  cabin  once  or  twice,  and  then,  becoming  more  calm, 
he  sat  down  again.  "  Luke,  dear  lad,  I  wished  to  see  thee,  but 
only  thee,  for  the  present.  I  have  much  to  say.  And  first — 
of  Bess.  Do  you  know  the  words  she  said  to  me  before  I 
sailed  ?" 

"  I  know  them.     Bess  told  me  herself." 

"  Does  any  other  person  know  them  ?" 

"  No  one,  I  believe." 

"Let  her  hold  her  tongue,  then,  lest  they  take  her  for  a 
witch.  Why,  I  know  full  well  that  she  is  no  witch ;  and  as 
for  those  words,  they  were  spoken  by  her,  but  yet  were  not  her 
own.  I  laughed  when  I  heard  them.  The  second  time  I 
heard  them  I  laughed  no  longer.  And  now  I  will  tell  thee  the 
whole  truth,  Luke ;  but  keep  it  to  thyself  until  I  am  dead, 
when  I  wish  thee — nay,  I  charge  thee — to  tell  the  admiral  and 
thy  father.  I  crowded  all  sail  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy  ;  I  pre- 
pared for  action  with  as  light  a  heart  as  a  man  can  have  who 
has  a  stout  ship  and  a  lusty  crew.  My  guns  they  were  loaded, 
and  my  men  were  at  quarters,  every  man  stripped  to  the  skin, 
a  good  ration  of  rum  served  round,  and  as  hearty  a  spirit  as 
ever  animated  a  British  crew.  I  was  as  certain  of  making  a 
prize  of  the  Malicieuse  as  I  am  now  certain  of  being  tried  and 
sentenced  to  death.  Suddenly,  we  being  by  this  time  well 
within  range,  and  our  men  prepared  to  give  the  enemy  a  broad- 
side, a  shot  from  the  Frenchman  struck  our  bow,  and  sent  the 
splinters  flying.  Then  there  came  upon  me  a  kind  of  dizzi- 
ness, and  a  voice  shouted — yea,  shouted  in  my  ears — though 
none  but  me  heard  it,  '  Thou  shalt  be  struck  where  thou  shalt 
feel  the  blow  most  deeply.'  I  tell  thee  the  truth,  Luke.  But 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  361 

tell  no  one,  lest  they  seize  poor  Bess  for  a  witch.  Something 
(I  know  not  what)  caught  my  hand,  and  dragged  me,  whether 
I  would  or  no — yea,  compelled  me — to  the  mainmast,  and 
placed  the  lines  in  my  hand,  and  forced  me  to  haul  down  the 
flag.  I  know  not  very  well  what  happened  afterwards.  My 
men,  I  believe,  were  all  smitten  with  stupid  amazement,  and 
made  no  resistance:  how  should  they,  when  the  flag  was 
struck  ?  They  tell  me  that  I  cut  down  the  first  lieutenant. 
Thank  God  I  did  no  more  than  stun  him!  And  presently, 
when  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  sitting  on  a  carronade,  and 
the  ship  was  a  prize,  and  the  French  commander  was  on  the 
quarter-deck." 

"  But  you  recaptured  the  ship  ?" 

"Why,  'twas  a  desperate  attempt.  I  thought  first  that  I 
would  starve  myself  to  death.  But  a  man  does  not  like  to 
kill  himself.  And  then,  seeing  the  Frenchmen  on  the  deck, 
and  some  of  my  lads  for'ard  under  the  sentries,  I  thought  to 
make  them  kill  me.  Alas !  they  were  not  suffered  to  kill  me. 
Some  of  my  men  were  wounded,  and  a  good  many  of  the 
Frenchmen  knocked  o'  the  head ;  but  I  came  out  of  the  fight 
without  a  scratch,  and  the  ship  was  ours  again.  That  is  my 
story,  lad,  in  its  truth." 

What  could  a  man  say  in  consolation  to  a  man  thus  afflicted  ? 
Was  there  ever  a  worse  case  ?  My  father,  for  his  part,  found 
the  case  of  Job  worse,  "  because,"  he  said,  "  not  only  did  the 
patriarch  lose  wife  and  children,  and  substance  and  health, 
but  he  also  lost  that  which  made  the  patriarchal  life  more  de- 
sirable than  any  which  hath  followed  it,  namely,  the  daily  walk 
with  God,  compared  with  which  a  man's  reputation  among  his 
fellows  is  naught  indeed." 

"  Tell  Bess,"  Jack  went  on,  "  what  hath  happened.  Let  her 
know  that  she  is  revenged,  and  I  am  punished.  She  did  not 
desire  my  punishment.  It  will  grieve  the  poor,  tender  creature, 
who  always  loved  me  better  than  I  deserved.  Yet  it  is  the 
punishment — nay,  I  know  it  now — it  is  the  punishment  of 
God  himself." 

He  then  told  me,  what  indeed  I  knew  already,  the  history  of 
his  passion  for  Bess,  which  was  as  brief  as  it  was  violent,  spar- 
ing himself  not  at  all. 

"  Never,"  he  swore,  "  was  a  man  more  madly  in  love  with 
16 


362  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

any  woman  than  I  with  Bess,  and  never,  I  am  sure,  did  woman 
love  man  better  than  she  loved  me.  I  confess,  lad,  that  I  made 
her  a  thousand  promises,  the  most  sacred  I  knew,  even  upon 
the  Holy  Bible,  that  I  would  never  forget  her,  but  would 
marry  her  when  I  returned.  The  man  Brinjes  was  witness  a 
dozen  times  to  these  protestations.  As  for  him,  he  is,  I  think, 
a  devil.  For  he  egged  her  on  to  meet  me  as  often  as  I  wished 
in  his  own  house ;  and  he  laughed  when  I  swore  constancy, 
telling  me,  when  she  was  not  present,  that  I  knew  the  lesson  as 
well  as  if  I  were  five-and-thirty  instead  of  four-and-twenty,  and 
that  every  sailor  was  the  same,  but  I  the  most  fortunate  of  all, 
because  I  had  so  beautiful  a  girl.  I  meant  not,  however,  Luke, 
to  deceive  her.  I  intended,  when  I  sailed  away,  to  keep  my 
word.  I  was  full  of  love  to  her.  Yet,  which  is  strange,  when 
we  had  been  at  sea  for  two  or  three  months,  I  thought  of  her 
no  longer.  "When  I  came  home  with  the  prize  I  declare  that  I 
had  clean  forgotten  her ;  and  when  I  saw  her,  I  looked  upon 
her  no  longer  with  love,  and  wondered  how  I  could  ever  have 
loved  her." 

"  Poor  Bess !" 

"  It  is  strange,  Luke,  since  I  took  the  ship  again,  the  image 
of  the  girl  hath  returned  to  my  heart.  I  have  thought  upon 
her  daily,  and  I  remember  once  more  all  the  things  that  passed 
between  us  while  I  was  waiting  for  my  appointment  to  the 
Tartar.  Poor  Bess !  She  deserved  a  better  lover.  How 
could  I  ever  forget  her  brave  black  eyes  ?  See,  Luke !"  He 
drew  up  his  sleeve  and  showed  his  left  arm — he  had  forgotten 
when  last  he  exhibited  that  tattoo.  "  See,  lad,  her  name  is  ever 
before  me.  Yes,  a  better  lover  she  deserved." 

"  She  desires  no  better  lover,  Jack." 

"  What  ?"  he  asked.     "  Doth  she  not  curse  my  very  name  2" 

"  Nay ;  she  hath  never  cursed  thee,  Jack.  She  loves  thee 
still :  she  hath  always  loved  thee." 

"  A  woman  cannot  love  a  man  who  is  disgraced." 

"  Why  ?  She  loves  the  man :  it  is  not  his  honor  or  his  repu- 
tation she  loves.  That  I  have  heard,  but  I  have  never  under- 
stood it,  concerning  women,  before ;  but  now  I  perceive  it  very 
plainly.  It  is  strange  to  us,  because  a  man  cannot  love  a 
woman  without  thinking  of  her  beauty  ;  and  so  we  believe  that 
a  woman  cannot  love  a  man  without  thinking  of  his  honor  and 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  363 

reputation,  his  strength  and  his  name  ;  Jack,  will  you  see  this 
poor  girl  ?  Will  you  let  her  come  to  you,  and  tell  her  kindly, 
in  your  old  way,  that  you  love  again,  as  in  the  past  time,  and 
so  heal  her  bleeding  heart  ?" 

"See  her?  Truly,  I  never  thought,"  said  Jack,  "that  she 
would  any  more  come  to  me.  I  thought  that  she  must  be  like 
Aaron  Fletcher — only  anxious  to  see  me  swing.  Why,  if  the 
poor  child  can  find  any  comfort  or  happiness  in  coming  here, 
let  her  come,  in  God's  name.  As  for  me,  dear  lad,  there  is  a 
load  upon  my  heart  which  I  thought  would  be  with  me  till  my 
death.  But  if  she  will  forgive  me,  I  think  that  load  will  be  re- 
moved, and  I  can  die  with  easier  mind.  Poor  Bess !  she  will 
but  get  her  lover  in  time  to  see  him  die.  My  heart  bleeds  for 
her.  Go  quick — bring  her  to  me.  Let  rae  at  least  ask  her  for- 
giveness." 

You  may  be  sure  that  I  lost  no  time  in  taking  this  fond 
message  to  Bess. 

I  looked  that  she  would  burst  into  weeping  and  sobbing. 
But  she  did  not. 

"  I  knew,"  she  said,  "  that  I  should  get  my  lover  back. 
Now  care  I  for  nothing  more.  For  if  he  must  die,  so  must  I 
die  also.  Death  itself  shall  not  have  power — no,  death  shall 
have  no  power  to  separate  us.  On  the  day  that  he  dies  shall  I 
die  too.  He  loves  me  again.  Why,  do  you  think  I  care  what 
may  happen  to  either  of  us,  since  he  loves  me  still  ?" 

I  led  her  on  board,  and  took  her  to  the  captain's  cabin,  but 
at  the  door  I  turned  away,  and  so  left  them  alone. 

Oh!  behind  that  closed  door  what  prayers  and  vows  were 
uttered,  what  tears  were  shed,  what  tender  embraces  were  ex- 
changed, when,  in  the  presence  of  shame  and  death,  those  hap- 
less lovers  met  again ! 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

OF    THE    COURT-MARTIAL. 


NEARLY  all  that  follows  is  matter  of  history,  and  may  be 
read  in  the  gazettes  and  papers  of  the  day.  Yet,  for  the  sake 
of  completing  the  history,  it  shall  be  set  forth  in  order. 


364  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

The  court-martial  was  appointed  to  be  held  on  board  the 
Calypso,  on  the  forenoon  of  Monday,  February  the  2d. 

On  that  day  it  was  accordingly  held,  the  Hon.  John  Cheveril, 
Rear- Admiral  of  the  White,  and  Admiral  of  the  Port,  being  the 
President.  The  court  consisted  of  Captains  Richard  Orde, 
Frederick  Drake,  Saltren  Willett,  Peter  Denis,  and  Joshua  Row- 
ley. Captain  Petherick  should  also  have  sat,  but  he  begged  to 
be  excused,  on  the  ground  of  personal  friendship  with  the  de- 
fendant. He  was  present,  however,  and  sat  at  the  back  of  the 
court,  with  as  sad  a  countenance  as  ever  I  beheld.  (As  for  our 
admiral,  he  was  in  his  bedroom  with  an  attack  of  gout,  which 
even  Mr.  Brinjes  could  not  cure.)  The  court  was  thrown  open 
to  all.  Few  of  the  friends  of  the  accused  officer  were  present, 
but  there  was  a  great  throng  of  people,  not  only  from  Deptford 
Town,  but  also  from  London.  Truly,  a  court-martial  on  whose 
decision  rests  the  honor,  if  not  the  life,  of  a  man,  is  a  species 
of  judicial  investigation  which  strikes  awe  upon  the  beholder, 
even  more  than  the  aspect  of  the  judge,  jury,  and  counsel  in  a 
civil  court,  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion  being  heightened  and 
set  off  by  the  uniforms  of  the  judges  and  the  naked  weapons 
of  the  sentries  and  guards. 

The  court  was  opened  by  the  deputy  judge-advocate.  He 
was  only  an  attorney  of  Deptford,  by  name  Richard  Pendle- 
bury,  but  he  wore  a  black  gown  over  his  coat,  and  being  pro- 
vided with  a  full  wig,  which  might  have  been  proper  even  to  a 
sergeant-at-law,  and  wearing  much  lace  to  his  bosom  and  his 
sleeves,  and  being  a  big  burly  gentleman  with  a  full  round  voice, 
he  looked  as  full  of  authority  as  a  king's  counsel.  He  began 
the  proceedings  by  reading  the  warrant  of  the  right  honor- 
able the  lords  commissioners  of  the  Admiralty,  empowering 
the  admiral  to  assemble  courts-martial.  This  done,  the  presi- 
dent ordered  that  Captain  Easterbrook  should  be  brought  be- 
fore the  court.  My  heart  beat  fast  and  my  throat  choked 
when  he  appeared,  bearing  himself  proudly,  but  with  pale 
cheek,  dressed,  if  one  may  say  so,  like  a  bride  for  her  wedding, 
wearing  his  best  uniform,  his  richest  lace,  and  white  leather 
gloves.  Never,  surely,  did  officer  of  the  king's  navy  bear 
himself  more  gallantly.  Once  only  I  saw  his  cheek  flush 
scarlet.  'Twas  when,  in  the  old  familiar  way,  he  clapped  his 
hand  to  his  side  for  the  adjustment  of  his  sword.  Alas !  he 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.         365 

had  no  sword.  That  had  been  taken  from  him,  and  was  now 
lying  on  the  table  before  the  president,  the  hilt  towards  the 
prisoner.  Then  he  bowed  to  his  judges  and  stood  upright,  and 
to  outward  show  calm  and  collected,  though  a  tempest  of  shame 
and  despair  was  raging  within. 

Then  the  deputy  judge-advocate  administered  the  oath  to 
the  members  of  the  court  and  took  it  himself  in  the  form 
prescribed,  after  which  he  read  the  charge  against  the  defend- 
ant, as  follows : 

"Gentlemen, —  The  charge  against  Captain  John  Easter- 
brook,  Commander  of  the  Calypso,  here  present  before  your 
honorable  court,  is  that  on  the  fourth  day  of  December,  1759, 
he  did  cowardly  and  treacherously  surrender  and  yield  up  his 
ship  to  the  enemy,  and  he  is  here  to  answer  this  charge  accord- 
ingly." 

He  then  read  the  fifteenth  of  the  Articles  of  War,  as  follows : 

"  Every  person  in  or  belonging  to  the  fleet  who  shall  desert 
to  the  enemy,  pirate,  or  rebel,  or  shall  run  away  with  any  of 
his  majesty's  ships  or  vessels  of  war,  or  any  ordnance,  ammu- 
nition, stores,  or  provision  belonging  thereto,  to  the  weakening 
of  the  service,  or  shall  yield  up  the  same,  cowardly  or  treach- 
erously, to  the  enemy,  pirate,  or  rebel,  being  convicted  of  any 
such  offence  by  the  sentence  of  the  court-martial,  shall  suffer 
death." 

These  preliminaries  being  completed,  the  deputy  judge- 
advocate  proceeded  to  call  his  witnesses,  and  to  each  in  turn 
administered  an  oath,  which  is  more  awful  than  that  used  in 
the  civil  courts,  because  it  lays  upon  the  witness  an  obligation 
to  reveal  everything  that  he  knows  concerning  the  case.  The 
form  is  this : 

"  I,  A.  B.,  do  most  solemnly  swear  that  in  the  evidence  I 
shall  give  before  the  court  respecting  the  present  trial  I  will, 
whether  demanded  of  me  by  question  or  not,  and  whether 
favorable  or  unfavorable  to  the  prisoner,  declare  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  So  help  me,  God !" 

The  deposition  of  the  officers  had  already  been  taken  at 
Portsmouth  for  the  information  of  the  Lords  Commissioners, 
and  in  every  case  these  were  first  read  aloud,  and  then  con- 
firmed by  the  witness,  who  added  what  he  chose,  and  answered 
such  questions  as  were  put  to  him.  And  in  the  putting  of 


366  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

these  questions  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  deputy  judge-advo- 
cate was  desirous  of  pressing  and  dwelling  upon  every  fact 
which  might  make  the  crime  appear  blacker,  and  of  concealing 
or  passing  over  every  fact  which  made  in  favor  of  the  accused. 
The  first  witness  called  was  Lieutenant  Colin  Macdonald, 
first  lieutenant  of  the  Calypso. 

His  deposition  was  short,  and  was  as  follows : 
"  At  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  December  the  4th,  being 
then  in  company  with  the  frigate  Resolute,  Captain  Boys,  we 
sighted  three  ships,  which  we  presently  made  out  to  be  a  squad- 
ron of  three  French  frigates,  apparently  of  about  the  same 
armament  as  ourselves.  They  bore  away  at  sight  of  us,  as 
not  wishing  to  fight.  Captain  Easterbrook  gave  the  word  to 
crowd  all  sail  and  up  hammocks,  the  wind  being  then  fresh 
and  nearly  aft,  and  the  sea  lively,  but  the  ship  sailing  free  and 
not  lying  down,  so  that  all  her  ports  could  be  opened  and  all 
her  guns  fired.  We  presently  found  that  we  gained  upon  the 
Frenchmen,  and  about  noon  we  were  nearly  come  up  with  the 
Malicieuse,  the  slowest  of  the  three,  the  Resolute  being  then 
half  a  mile  or  so  astern,  and  the  other  two  French  ships  about 
as  much  ahead  of  us.  We  were  by  this  time  cleared  for  action, 
the  men  at  their  quarters,  and  everything  reported  in  readiness, 
looking  for  nothing  but  a  close  engagement,  and  a  pretty  hot 
one,  with  the  three  ships.  The  captain's  plan,  he  told  me, 
was  to  range  alongside  of  the  enemy,  pour  in  his  broadside, 
grapple,  and  board,  thinking  that  the  Resolute  would  do  the 
like,  and  so  we  might  capture  the  squadron.  And  this  we 
could  have  done,  having  faster  vessels  than  the  enemy,  and 
Captain  Easterbrook  being,  as  I  take  it,  the  smartest  handler  of 
a  ship  in  the  service,  though  so  young  a  man.  But  the  French- 
man was  not  disposed  to  allow  of  this  if  he  could  help  it. 
Therefore  he  began  to  let  fly  with  the  stern-chasers,  being,  like 
most  of  his  nation,  amply  provided  with  these  helps  to  running 
away.  His  first  shot  knocked  away  part  of  our  figure-head, 
the  splinters  flying  about  the  deck  ;  but  no  one  harmed.  Just 
then,  to  our  utmost  consternation,  the  captain  turned  pale,  and 
ran  to  the  mainmast,  where,  with  his  own  hands,  he  began  to 
lower  the  colors.  I  ran  to  him,  crying,  'Captain,  for  God's 
sake,  consider  what  you  are  doing !'  Whereupon  he  drew  his 
sword,  and  cut  me  down  over  the  head,  but  fortunately  with 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  367 

the  flat  of  the  weapon  only,  else  I  had  been  a  dead  man.  And 
I  knew  no  more  until  the  business  was  ended  and  we  were  all 
prisoners." 

Being  asked  by  the  deputy  judge-advocate  what  prepa- 
rations had  been  made  for  an  engagement,  he  replied  that  noth- 
ing was  omitted  that  is  customary  on  such  an  occasion ;  that 
they  had  ample  time  during  the  chase,  and  that  no  ship  ever 
went  into  action  better  prepared.  Immediately  on  sighting  the 
enemy  the  boVn  and  his  mates  piped  to  stow  hammocks ;  the 
carpenter  and  his  mates  were  ready  with  their  mauls  and  plugs ; 
the  gunner  and  his  quarter-gunners  examined  and  reported  on 
'all  the  cannon.  When  the  ship  was  within  a  mile  of  the 
enemy  the  drums  beat  to  arms,  and  the  bo's'n  and  his  mates 
piped  "  all  hands  to  quarters  "  at  every  hatchway.  Then  every 
man  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  repaired  to  his  proper  place ;  a 
ration  of  rum  was  served  out ;  the  hatches  were  laid ;  the  ma- 
rines were  drawn  up  on  the  quarter-deck  and  fo'k'sle ;  lastly, 
the  lashings  of  the  great  guns  were  let  loose,  the  tompions 
withdrawn,  and  the  guns  run  out  at  all  the  ports.  In  one  word, 
there  was  no  point  omitted  that  a  commander  who  knows  his 
business  would  neglect,  and  everything  in  such  order  as  the 
most  resolute  captain  could  desire. 

Being  asked,  further,  if  the  enemy's  consorts  showed  an  in- 
tention of  taking  part  in  the  fight,  the  lieutenant  replied  that 
he  was  not  prepared  to  state  positively,  but  he  believed  that 
one  of  them  backed  her  sails,  while  the  other  appeared  to  be 
hauling  her  wind;  but  he  repeated  that  it  was  the  captain's 
design  to  neglect  these  vessels  while  he  took  the  Malicieuse  by 
boarding,  and  afterwards  to  engage  her  consorts  with  the  help 
of  the  Resolute. 

Being  further  pressed  upon  the  distance  of  the  Calypso  from 
the  Malicieuse  when  the  captain  surrendered,  he  replied  that, 
to  the  best  of  his  knowledge  and  belief,  the  Calypso  was  no 
more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  astern  of  the  Malicieuse, 
and  gaining  rapidly.  Being  asked  what  was  the  posture  of 
the  enemy  so  far  as  could  be  discerned,  he  replied  the  men 
were  at  quarters,  and  ready  for  action,  but  that  all  sail  was 
crowded,  and  the  Frenchman,  it  was  quite  certain,  had  no 
stomach  for  the  fight,  and  would  gladly  have  got  clear  off. 

At  this  point  of  the  evidence  Captain  Easterbrook  was  asked 


368  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

if  he  had  any  questions  to  put  to  the  witness.  He  replied  that 
he  had  none,  and  that  to  the  best  of  his  knowledge  the  evi- 
dence given  by  Lieutenant  Macdonald  was  true  in  every  particu- 
lar— a  statement  which  made  the  court  look  serious,  and 
troubled  the  mind  of  the  deputy  judge-advocate,  because 
there  is  nothing  which  these  gentlemen  desire  more  than  to 
fight  a  stubborn  case  ;  whereas,  if  an  officer  pleads  guilty,  and 
throws  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the  court,  he  has  no  chance 
to  show  his  cleverness. 

"  With  permission  of  the  court,"  said  the  first  lieutenant, 
"  I  will  now  give  evidence  as  to  the  recapture  of  the  ship." 

"  I  submit  to  the  court,"  said  the  deputy  judge-advocate, 
"that  the  recapture  of  the  ship  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
charge  against  Captain  Easterbrook,  namely,  that  he  did  cow- 
ardly and  treacherously  yield  up  his  vessel." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  with  respect.  If  the 
ship  had  not  been  recaptured,  the  court  could  not  have  been 
held.  And  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  captain,  the  ship  would 
never  have  been  recaptured.  For  he  did  a  thing  which,  I  ven- 
ture to  maintain,  no  other  man  in  the  service  would  have  done, 
when  he  engaged,  single-handed,  the  whole  of  the  crew  in 
charge  of  the  prize." 

So  the  court  conferred  together,  whispering,  and  the  presi- 
dent ordered  the  witness  to  proceed.  Whereupon  the  deputy 
judge-advocate  sat  down  and  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
gazed  upward,  as  if  this  part  of  the  evidence  did  not  concern 
him. 

The  account  which  the  lieutenant  gave  of  the  retaking  of 
the  ship  was  exactly  the  same  which  he  had  already  given  to 
the  commissioner  of  the  yard,  Captain  Petherick.  It  need 
not  therefore  be  repeated  here.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  at  the 
recital  there  was  not  a  face  in  court  which  was  not  suffused 
with  emotion,  and  as  for  myself,  I  thought  that  surely  after  so 
gallant  an  exploit  his  sword  would  be  returned  to  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  concluded  the  first  lieutenant,  "  'twas  the 
most  gallant  act  I  have  ever  witnessed.  Only  by  a  miracle, 
and  by  his  own  valor,  did  the  captain  escape  death.  There 
were  on  deck  thirty  Frenchmen,  all  armed,  and  he  with  nothing 
but  the  sword  which  he  tore  from  the  French  commander. 
And  to  back  him  only  a  dozed  unarmed  men,  who,  to  tell  tho 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  369 

truth,  for  I  was  among  them,  were  taken  by  surprise,  and  would 
never  have  plucked  up  heart  save  for  the  example  of  the  cap- 
tain. The  first  man  to  join  him  was  a  marine  named  Aaron 
Fletcher,  who  seized  a  rammer,  and,  armed  with  this  weapon 
alone,  stood  by  the  captain,  playing  a  man's  part  indeed ;  but 
for  him,  the  captain  would  have  been  cut  down  a  dozen  times. 
But,  gentlemen,  that  the  ship  was  recaptured  is  due  to  nobody 
but  to  the  desperate  valor  of  the  captain  himself." 

The  court  asked  Captain  Easterbrook  whether  he  had  any 
questions  to  put  on  this  head,  but  he  had  none.  Wherefore 
Lieutenant  Macdonald  stepped  aside,  and  made  way  for  the 
next  witness. 

Then  the  second  lieutenant  of  the  ship  was  called,  and  he 
gave  evidence  that  he  was  at  Ms  station  on  the  main-deck  when 
the  action  began,  and  testified  to  the  disgust  of  the  men  when 
they  learned  that  the  ship  was  surrendered.  This  was  the 
more  astonishing  to  them,  as  their  captain  had  the  reputation 
of  uncommon  courage.  At  first  the  men  refused  to  believe 
that  the  vessel  was  surrendered,  and  called  upon  each  other  to 
fight  it  out. 

The  third  lieutenant  gave  similar  evidence,  adding  that, 
had  not  the  men  been  fully  convinced  of  the  captain's  bravery 
and  judgment,  there  would  have  been  a  mutiny  on  board  ;  and 
that  they  thought  the  ship  must  be  sinking  at  least,  or  danger- 
ously on  fire,  or  that  it  was  some  stratagem,  counterfeit,  or  de- 
sign by  which  the  captain  thought  to  fool  the  enemy,  and  that 
they  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed  aloud,  waiting  for  the 
word  to  lay  the  guns,  and  fire.  Further,  that  the  enemy  did 
not  believe  it.  possible  that  a  British  ship  should  thus  cowardly 
be  yielded  up,  and  continued  to  fire  upon  the  Calypso,  the  shot 
passing  through  the  rigging  and  the  sails,  but  doing  no  further 
mischief.  Nor  did  the  men  believe  that  the  ship  was  surren- 
dered until  the  French  boat  came  alongside,  and  the  captain 
gave  the  word  to  back  the  sails  and  lay  down  arms,  which  they 
all  did  with  a  very  bad  grace,  yet  still  persuaded  that  some- 
thing fatal  had  happened  to  the  ship,  and  that  the  colors  were 
struck  to  save  their  lives. 

The  lieutenant  of  marines  deposed  that  his  men  were  drawn 
up  in  readiness  on  the  quarter-deck  and  fo'k'sle,  and  stated 
plainly  that  he  had  no  doubt  of  the  issue,  because  the  French- 


370  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

man  had  only  one  thought — namely,  to  get  away ;  and,  in  his 
opinion,  it  had  been  the  captain's  intention  to  attack  and  take 
all  three  ships,  with  the  help  of  the  Resolute;  and  that  nothing 
in  the  world  had  ever  surprised  him  more  than  the  strange  be- 
havior of  the  captain,  from  whom  so  much  had  been  expected. 

Captain  Easterbrook  declined  to  ask  any  questions  of  these  wit- 
nesses. Was  he,  then,  going  to  make  no  attempt  at  a  defence  ? 

They  called  the  purser,  who  put  in  the  captain's  log-book, 
which  is  always  done  on  these  trials,  I  am  told,  but  I  do  not 
know  why.  And  then  I  thought  we  should  surely  proceed  to 
the  defence,  because  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  the  main  fact 
— namely,  that  the  captain  had  certainly  struck  the  colors. 

But  they  delayed  the  case  in  order  to  call  the  master,  who 
confirmed  the  first  lieutenant's  evidence  as  to  the  preparations 
for  engaging  the  enemy ;  and  the  gunner,  who  also  confirmed 
the  evidence ;  and  the  bo's'n  and  the  carpenter,  who  added 
little  to  the  evidence  already  before  the  court,  except  the  fact 
that  when  the  men  were  under  hatches  and  knew  what  had 
been  done,  the  swearing  and  cursing  of  the  crew  were  strong 
enough  to  lift  the  decks. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  deputy  judge-advocate,  "  there  is  no 
other  evidence  before  the  court." 

"  Stay,"  said  the  president,  "  call  the  marine  of  whose  con- 
duct in  the  recapture  of  the  ship  Lieutenant  Macdonald  hath 
spoken." 

So  they  called  Aaron  Fletcher. 

When  this  witness  stepped  forward,  looking,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, a  much  smarter  and  finer  man  in  his  scarlet  coat  than 
he  ever  looked  as  a  landsman,  Jack's  face  flushed.  It  was  his 
fate  never  to  be  out  of  reach  of  this  man's  animosity.  Twice 
had  Aaron  tried  to  take  his  life,  when  that  was  most  worth 
having.  Once  he  had  saved  his  life  when  he  himself  had  most 
ardently  desired  to  lose  it.  Now  he  was  present  to  give  evi- 
dence in  the  hour  of  his  open  humiliation. 

"I  thought,"  he  told  me  afterwards,  "that  I  had  drained  the 
whole  cup.  But  the  bitterest  drop  was  when  that  man  stood 
before  me,  as  if  Bess,  poor  girl !  had  not  yet  forgiven  me,  and 
had  sent  her  old  lover  to  gloat  over  my  discomfiture.  She 
hath  forgiven  me,  however;  therefore  I  need  not  have  been 
troubled." 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          371 

The  court  ordered  the  man  to  be  sworn,  and  bade  him  relate 
all  that  he  knew  concerning  the  affair,  and  particularly  as  to 
the  retaking  of  the  ship  from  the  French. 

"  I  was  on  the  fo'k'sle,"  said  Aaron,  speaking  boldly,  and 
no  whit  abashed  at  the  solemnity  of  the  court  and  the  rank  of 
the  judges — "  I  was  on  the  fo'k'sle  with  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany, drawn  up  and  armed,  the  muskets  being  loaded  and  in- 
spected, waiting  for  the  word  to  fire,  which  would  have  been 
in  a  few  minutes,  as  we  expected.  Then  a  shot  from  the  ene- 
my struck  our  bows,  and  the  wood  went  flying,  but  no  one  that 
I  could  see  was  hurt.  And  then  I  saw  the  captain  strike  the 
flag  and  cut  down  the  first  lieutenant.  '  Mates,'  I  whispered, 
presently,  '  either  the  ship  is  sinking  or  the  captain  has  lost 
his  stomach  for  the  fight.  If  she  sinks,  we  go  to  Davy's 
Locker ;  if  he's  played  the  coward,  he  will  swing.' "  As  he 
said  these  words  he  turned  his  face  to  Jack  with  a  look  of 
triumph  in  his  eyes.  "  We  were  all  sent  down  below,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  when  the  Frenchmen  came  aboard,  and  there  we  stayed 
with  no  arms  and  short  rations.  Two  days  afterwards  I  was 
on  deck,  taking  my  spell  of  fresh  air  with  the  others — about 
a  dozen  men  in  all.  We  were  leaning  against  the  bulwarks, 
wishing  the  job  were  over,  and  cursing  the  captain,  who  was 
sitting  on  the  quarter-deck  on  the  trunnions  of  a  carronade,  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  staring  straight  before  him  as  if  he  saw 
the  rope  dangling  before  his  eyes,  already  noosed  for  him. 
Suddenly  I  saw  him  spring  from  his  place  and  catch  the  French 
officer,  who  was  walking  the  deck,  by  the  throat,  and  shake 
him  like  a  dog.  Then  he  threw  him  on  the  deck,  where  the 
Frenchman  lay  stunned  and  half  dead,  and  he  tore  his  sword 
from  him ;  then  he  rushed  upon  one  of  the  sentries  and  cut 
him  down,  and  attacked  the  other.  Some  of  the  Frenchmen, 
seeing  what  was  done,  cried  out  in  their  own  lingo  and  ran  aft, 
some  firing  pistols  and  some  drawing  cutlasses;  whereupon  I 
called  out  to  my  mates  and  seized  a  rammer — which  was  the 
best  thing  for  a  weapon  I  could  come  at — and  ran  after  them, 
and  so  to  the  captain's  side,  for  I  plainly  saw  that  his  design  was 
to  kill  as  many  of  the  Frenchmen  as  he  could,  and  to  be  killed 
himself,  which  I  resolved  to  prevent  if  I  could.  And  then  the 
other  Englishmen  joined  me,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  we  had 
half  of  the  prize  crew  killed  or  wounded,  and  the  other  half 


372  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

crying  for  quarter;  but  the  captain  was  so  furious  that  for 
some  time  he  would  give  none,  throwing  himself  upon  all  such 
as  had  weapons  and  would  fight.  Hard  work  I  had  to  save 
him,  but  I  did.  When  'twas  all  over  there  wasn't  a  scratch 
upon  him.  I  saved  him,  your  honors.  With  a  rammer  I  saved 
his  life." 

"  Your  courage,"  said  the  president,  "  does  you  credit.  I' 
shall  take  care  that  it  is  duly  represented  to  the  colonel  of  your 
regiment,  and  if  your  conduct  is  reported  as  equal  to  your  gal- 
lantry, you  will  not  go  without  your  reward.  The  captain,  you 
think,  sought  for  death  ?" 

"  No  one,"  said  Aaron,  "  who  did  not  want  to  be  killed  could 
have  behaved  as  he  did.  Before  the  enemy  called  for  quar- 
ter we  had  driven  them  together  in  the  waist,  where  they 
were  shouting  and  threatening  to  charge  us  with  pikes  and 
bayonets,  but  we  had  weapons  by  this  time,  and  were  ready 
to  receive  them.  But  they  did  not  charge,  because  the  cap- 
tain leaped  into  the  middle  of  them  with  nothing  but  his  sword 
in  his  hand,  laying  about  him  like  a  madman.  He  was  sober 
and  in  his  senses  when  he  cowardly  hauled  down  the  flag,  but 
he  was  now,  when  he  attacked  the  prize  crew,  gone  stark  mad. 
If  he  hadn't  been  mad,  and  not  known  what  he  was  about,  we 
should  never  have  taken  the  ship." 

"  And  you  leaped  after  him  ?"  asked  one  of  the  court. 

"  I  had  my  rammer,  which  was  almost  as  good  as  a  quarter- 
staff  ;  and  I'd  rather  have  a  quarter-staff  than  a  sword  any  day, 
or  a  pike  either,  if  there's  room  for  play." 

"  And  this  you  did  out  of  devotion  or  loyalty  to  your  cap- 
tain ?"  asked  the  president,  astonished  at  the  man's  coolness, 
and  the  deliberation  with  which  he  gave  his  evidence. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  he  replied,  grinning  again  ;  "  I  saved  his  life 
because  I  should  have  been  sorry  to  see  him  die  like  a  brave 
man.  All  I  wanted  was  to  see  him  swing,  your  honors,  for 
striking  his  colors." 

These  words  produced  a  sensation  in  the  court,  and  all  eyes 
were  turned  upon  this  witness  who,  though  but  a  simple  ma- 
rine, carried  devotion  to  his  country's  honor  unto  so  great  a 
height.  But  the  officers  of  the  Calypso  whispered  together, 
and  I  heard  such  words  passed  from  one  to  the  other  as  "  ras- 
cal," "six  dozen,"  "the  first  chance,"  "not  good  enough  for 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

him,"  and  so  forth,  from  which  I  conjectured  that  Aaron  would 
find  a  warm  welcome  if  he  went  to  sea  again  on  board  this 
vessel.  I  think  he  must  have  heard  the  whispers,  but  he  cared 
nothing  for  them  ;  he  was  now  enjoying  a  revenge  sweeter  far 
than  any  he  had  ever  dreamed  of  or  hoped  for.  This  was,  in- 
deed, far  better  than  to  have  murdered  the  captain  with  his 
own  hand. 

Therefore  he  turned  his  ugly  face  to  the  prisoner,  and  grinned 
with  the  satisfaction  of  his  ignoble  triumph.  The  court,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  take  the  words  for  an  outburst  of  honest  and 
patriotic  feeling  which  did  credit  to  this  rough  and  simple 
fellow. 

Captain  Easterbrook  refused  to  ask  any  questions  of  this 
witness  either.  It  was  now  between  three  and  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  when  the  president  asked  the  prisoner  if  he 
designed  to  call  any  witnesses  for  the  defence,  and  proposed 
to  adjourn  the  court  until  the  following  day. 

"  Sir,"  said  Jack,  "  I  have  no  witnesses  to  call." 

"  Then,"  said  the  president,  "  you  would  doubtless  wish  for 
time  to  prepare  your  defence.  It  is  now  late  ;  we  will  adjourn 
the  court  until  to-morrow." 

"  Sir,"  said  Jack,  "  I  thank  you.  But  with  permission  of 
the  court  I  will  make  my  defence  without  further  delay.  I 
will  not  trouble  the  court  to  adjourn." 

The  court  conferred,  and  presently  said  that  they  would 
hear  the  prisoner  at  once,  if  he  chose. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Jack  began,  "  I  have  but  few  words  to  say ; 
and  as  for  defence,  I  have  none.  I  have  been  at  sea  since  my 
thirteenth  year,  and  am  now  four-and-twenty.  During  this 
time  I  have  been  present  in  many  actions,  and  I  have  never 
received  aught  but  commendation  from  my  superior  officers. 
I  served  first  under  Captain  Holmes,  of  the  Lenox,  and  next 
on  board  the  Countess  of  Dorset,  when  I  was  cast  away  on  the 
coast  of  Patagonia,  and,  after  wandering  among  the  Indians, 
I  was  prisoner  first  to  the  Spaniards,  and  afterwards  to  the 
French.  But  I  broke  prison,  and  was  appointed  third  lieuten- 
ant to  Captain  Lockhart,  of  the  Tartar.  I  submit  that  my 
character  for  courage  was  never  impugned  on  board  any  of 
these  vessels,  and  Captain  Lockhart  hath  thought  fit  to  bear 
testimony  in  his  despatches  to  my  conduct  in  the  many  en- 


374  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

gagements  fought  by  his  ship.  You  have  also  heard  how  I 
was  enabled,  by  the  help  of  those  of  my  crew  then  on  deck, 
to  take  the  ship  again." 

He  paused  here,  as  if  he  were  unwilling  to  say  what  was  in 
his  mind. 

"  I  submit  to  the  court,"  said  the  deputy  judge-advocate, 
"  that  these  facts,  which  I  think  the  court  will  not  dispute,  do 
not  constitute  any  defence." 

"  They  are  no  defence,"  Jack  replied.  "  I  state  them  be- 
cause they  form  my  only  consolation  in  this  hour.  I  have  no 
defence.  The  charge  is  true.  My  officers  and  crew  would 
have  taken  not  only  the  Malicieuse,  but  the  two  other  ships  as 
well.  Their  evidence  is  true  in  every  particular.  I  wish  to 
testify  that  no  commander  ever  had  better  officers,  a  handier 
vessel,  or  a  heartier  crew.  I  threw  all  away.  I  struck  the 
colors.  I  cowardly  and  treacherously  surrendered  my  ship 
without  firing  a  shot.  I  have  but  one  prayer  to  make  to  the 
court.  It  is  that  this  act,  which  was  wholly  my  own,  may  not 
in  the  least  degree  prejudice  the  future  of  my  brave  lieuten- 
ants. It  was  this  shameful  hand,  and  none  other,  which 
hauled  down  the  flag  of  the  Calypso" 

When  he  concluded  there  was  silence  for  a  space,  because 
the  court  and  everybody  present  were  taken  by  surprise,  and 
because  the  contemplation  of  this  tall  and  handsome  lad  (he 
seemed  no  more)  thus  avowing,  not  proudly,  but  shamefully, 
and  yet  honestly  and  fully,  his  own  dishonor,  overwhelmed  us 
with  sadness.  From  his  officers,  standing  together,  there  were 
whispers,  which  could  be  heard  all  over  the  court :  "  He  was 
mad.  A  madman  is  not  answerable  for  his  doings.  No  one 
but  a  madman  would  have  done  it;"  and  so  forth.  And  I 
verily  believe,  and  have  been  assured,  that  there  was  not  one 
among  them  all  who  would  not  gladly  have  put  out  to  sea 
again  under  Captain  Easterbrook,  in  full  confidence  that  he 
would  fight  the  ship  as  long  as  a  man  was  left  alive  to  stand 
beside  him. 

As  for  me,  I  had  looked  to  see  him  call  some  witnesses.  He 
could  not,  it  is  true,  call  Bess  Westmoreland ;  nor  could  he 
tell  the  whole  truth,  else  he  would  have  stood  before  the  court 
and  said,  "  Gentlemen,  this  is  none  other  than  the  hand  of  God 
which  hath  struck  me  for  my  sins,  and  because  I  broke  my 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  375 

solemn  oath,  passed  to  a  woman.  The  hand  hath  struck  me 
in  that  way  which  most  deeply  and  most  bitterly  I  should  feel. 
For  I  never  feared  to  die,  nor  to  be  wounded,  but  always  and 
before  all  things  have  I  loved  and  prized  honor  and  been  jeal- 
ous for  my  good  name,  and  longed  to  distinguish  myself  and 
to  rise  in  the  service.  Wherefore,  now  have  I  been  deprived 
of  the  thing  which  most  of  all  I  prized,  and  stand  before  you 
all,  bereft  of  honor,  a  cowardly  commander,  so  that  there  re- 
mains for  me  nothing  but  death ;  and  whether  I  am  hanged 
or  shot  I  care  not,  so  that  I  may  die  soon.  For  there  is  no 
place  where  I  could  live  whither  my  shame  would  not  also 
follow  me  and  be  quickly  blazoned  forth  to  all  the  folk.  Sen- 
tence me,  therefore,  quickly,  and  let  me  go." 

This,  I  say,  he  felt,  and  knew  to  be  the  truth.  Yet  he  would 
not  say  it.  But  he  might  have  called  Mr.  Brinjes,  who  would 
have  testified,  which  is  the  truth,  though  it  did  not  perhaps 
touch  the  case,  that  men  who  have  been  in  places  where  the 
sun  is  hot,  especially  such  as  have  wandered  about  without 
any  covering  for  their  heads,  are  often  subject  to  sudden  fits 
of  madness,  during  which  they  know  not  what  they  do  ;  and 
that  perhaps  this  was  the  case  with  Captain  Easterbrook.  Nay, 
I  have  heard  learned  physicians,  disputing  on  such  points,  ar- 
gue that  sudden  fits  of  madness  are  often  produced  by  expo- 
sure to  the  hot  sun ;  so  that  a  man  who  hath  once  received  a 
sunstroke,  as  they  call  it,  may,  in  such  an  access,  commit  mur- 
der, or  any  other  crime,  and  not  know  afterwards  what  he 
hath  done. 

The  case  being  then  concluded,  and  the  whole  evidence  com- 
pleted, with  such  defence  as  the  defendant  had  thought  fit  to 
set  up,  order  was  given  to  clear  the  court.  Which  was  done, 
the  guard  of  marines  taking  the  captain  back  to  his  cabin,  and 
the  judges  being  left  alone. 

"  He  will  die,"  said  Captain  Petherick ;  "  I  see  in  his  eyes 
that  there  is  nothing  left  for  him  to  desire  but  death.  The 
day  of  his  execution  will  be  welcome  to  him.  Yet  I  hope  that 
they  will  not  hang  him  like  a  cur,  but  will  shoot  him  like  a 
brave  man." 

"  He  was  certainly  mad,"  said  Mr.  Shelvocke.  "  I  remem- 
ber once,  being  then  off  the  Ladrone  Islands — " 

"Ay,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  interrupting — I  had  not  seen  him 


376  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

in  court ;  yet  he  was  there,  dressed  as  if  for  the  club — "  Ay. 
The  boy  was  mad.  What  ?  Would  a  coward  have  resolved 
upon  so  desperate  an  enterprise  as  to  attack  the  prize  crew 
single-handed  ?  Death  was  before  him — death  if  he  failed  ; 
death  if  he  succeeded ;  for  to  succeed  was  but  to  throw  him- 
self into  a  court-martial.  Whereas,  if  he  had  suffered  the  ship 
to  sail  into  Brest  Harbor,  he  might  have  lived  in  France  all  his 
life  in  safety,  and  no  one  to  know  what  had  happened.  Now, 
what  can  they  do  but  sentence  him  to  be  hanged  or  shot  ? 
Luke,  my  lad,  if  I  had  Aaron  ashore,  I  would  make  every  one 
of  his  teeth  like  a  lump  of  red-hot  iron  ;  rheumatic  pains  should 
grind  his  joints  and  twist  his  nerves ;  gout  should  tear  and 
rend  his  stomach ;  tic  should  stick  sharp  teeth  into  his  face. 
Well— patience  !  something  will  happen  unto  Aaron  yet.  If, 
now,  the  poor  boy  had  been  suffered  to  have  his  wish,  he  would 
have  died  in  the  moment  of  victory,  when  he  had  reconquered 
the  ship.  As  for  witchcraft " — here  he  whispered — "  but  that 
I  know  the  poor  wretch  loves  him  still,  and  would  rather  die 
than  suffer  him  to  come  to  any  harm,  I  should  believe  that 
Bess  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  mischief.  I  say  not  that  she  is 
a  witch ;  but  no  one  knows  what  a  revengeful  woman  can  do 
when  once  she  dabbles  in  the  forbidden  art." 

Bess  was,  indeed,  at  the  bottom  of  the  mischief,  but  in  a 
way  which  Mr.  Brinjes  could  not  understand ;  for  he  had  not, 
so  far  as  I  could  discover,  the  fear  of  the  Lord  before  his  eyes, 
and  was,  indeed,  little  better  than  a  pagan. 

"  There  is  again,"  he  said,  "  the  old  black  woman.  But  then 
Jack  was  to  marry  her  mistress,  and  therefore  she  would  not 
harm  him.  Yet  there  must  be  a  girl  in  it,  and  she  must  have 
put  Obi  upon  him  by  the  help  of  some,  though  I  knew  not 
that  there  were  any  other  Obeah  men  in  this  country  besides 
myself.  If  I  were  younger,  I  would  go  to  Portsmouth  and  find 
that  woman,  and  then  Luke,  my  lad,  she  should  be  made  to 
feel  as  if  it  had  been  better  for  her  never  to  have  been  born." 

"  Bess,  at  least,  is  no  witch,"  I  said,  for  the  fire  of  his  one 
eye  was  so  bright  that  I  feared  he  might  have  fallen  upon  her, 
or,  at  least,  compelled  her  to  tell  him  the  truth. 

"  This  woman,  whoever  she  may  be,  hath  robbed  the  king's 
service  of  the  most  gallant  officer.  She  hath  deprived  a  lovely 
woman  of  her  sweetheart ;  she  hath  covered  us  all  with  shame 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  377 

and  confusion.  Wherefore,  may  her  flesh  fall  rotten  from  her 
bones  !  May — " 

"  Nay,  Mr.  Brinjes,"  I  said,  "  when  you  find  her  you  can 
curse  her.  Let  not  your  curses  loose  upon  an  unknown  woman." 

He  stopped,  but  it  was  because  at  this  moment  the  court 
was  thrown  open  and  the  prisoner  was  taken  back  to  hear  his 
sentence.  We  learned  afterwards  that  there  was  a  difference 
of  opinion  among  the  judges,  some  inclining  to  mercy  on  the 
ground  of  the  captain's  conduct  in  recapturing  the  ship.  But 
in  the  end  the  sterner  counsels  prevailed ;  and,  indeed,  the 
commander  of  a  ship  can  on  no  grounds  be  pardoned  for  sur- 
rendering to  the  enemy  save  in  extremity.  Suppose  a  man 
commits  a  forgery,  is  it  any  defence  that  before  and  after  this 
act  of  wickedness  he  led  a  good  and  virtuous  life  ?  Suppose  a 
boy  picks  a  pocket,  is  it  any  defence  that  he  is  sorry,  and  would 
fain  give  back  the  purse  and  the  money  that  was  in  it  ? 

We  went  back  to  the  court.  Alas !  the  prisoner's  sword 
was  now  reversed,  and  lay  upon  the  table,  the  point  towards 
the  prisoner,  which  meant  death. 

"  Guilty,"  whispered  Mr.  Brinjes,  not  looking  at  the  sword. 
"  Death  is  written  in  their  faces."  It  was.  And  yet  the  brave 
officers  who  had  already  passed  and  signed  the  sentence  of 
death,  showed  compassion  in  their  faces. 

As  for  me,  I  cannot  even  now,  after  nearly  forty  years  have 
passed,  think  of  that  moment  without  the  tears  rising  to  my 
eyes.  The  court  was  crowded  with  fine  ladies,  who  had  come 
from  London  to  see  the  trial.  They  thought,  perhaps,  to  en- 
joy the  spectacle  of  a  gallant  man  brought  to  shame,  but  they 
could  not  without  tears  and  sobbing  look  upon  this  poor  fel- 
low, tall  and  manly,  brought  forth  to  hear  a  sentence  of  death. 

The  deputy  judge-advocate  arose,  and  read  the  sentence  in 
his  hand,  signed  by  every  member  of  the  court. 

"  Captain  John  Easterbrook,  the  court-martial  duly  held  upon 
you  for  the  loss  of  his  majesty's  ship  the  Calypso,  find  that 
you  did  cowardly  surrender  your  ship.  The  sentence  of  the 
court  is,  that  on  a  day  to  be  presently  appointed  according  to 
the  will  of  his  gracious  majesty  the  king,  you  be  placed  upon 
the  quarter-deck  of  the  Calypso  and  be  there  shot  to  death. 
God  save  the  king  !" 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Jack,  in  a  clear,  firm  voice,  "  I  thank  the 


378  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

court  for  their  patient  hearing  of  the  case.  I  looked  for  no 
other  verdict,  and  I  desire  no  other.  I  acknowledge  the  jus- 
tice of  the  sentence.  God  save  the  king  !" 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

AFTER    THE    COURT-MARTIAL. 

THUS  ended  the  court-martial ;  thus  was  made  grievous  ship- 
wreck of  a  gallant  youth's  ambition,  his  honor,  and  his  life  ; 
yet,  as  to  his  honor,  'twas  stoutly  and  steadfastly  maintained 
by  all  sailors,  and  especially  by  the  officers  and  men  of  the 
Calypso,  that  the  captain's  surrender  (being  done  in  a  moment 
of  madness  or  by  power  of  witchcraft)  was  fully  atoned  for  by 
his  surprising  recapture  of  the  ship.  That,  too,  has  always 
been  the  opinion  of  his  friends,  though,  for  my  own  part,  as 
the  only  one  left  who  knows  the  whole  truth,  I  cannot  but 
acknowledge  that  the  madness  was  sent  by  Heaven,  just  as 
much  as  that  madness  which  the  ancients  feigned  to  have  been 
inflicted  on  the  Greek  hero  who  slew  cattle  and  sheep,  think- 
ing they  were  his  enemies.  Therefore,  no  atonement  for  his 
deed  was  necessary,  seeing  that  it  was  itself  a  punishment  in- 
flicted by  the  hand  of  a  justly-offended  Creator. 

I  know  not  who  told  the  truth  to  the  admiral,  but  perhaps 
it  was  Mr.  Brinjes,  who  went  daily  to  see  him  on  account  of 
an  attack  of  gout,  brought  on  partly  by  his  distress  of  mind 
and  the  shame  of  this  untoward  event,  and  partly  by  the  fault 
of  the  poor  old  gentleman  himself,  who  tried  to  drown  care 
with  port  wine  and  punch.  This  attack  obstinately  resisted 
the  apothecary's  remedies.  Indeed,  though  for  the  time  he 
presently  recovered,  yet  he  came  no  more  to  the  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff,  and  never  held  up  his  head  again,  going  in  great  heavi- 
ness, and,  I  fear,  still  taking  more  drink  than  is  good  for  any 
man,  until  the  disease  mounted  to  his  stomach,  where,  Mr. 
Brinjes  being  no  longer  at  hand  to  assuage  the  pain,  it  speedi- 
ly made  an  end  of  him. 

On  the  evening  of  the  court-martial  the  gentlemen  of  the 
club  met  as  usual,  though  without  their  president.  The  con-, 
versation  was  enlivened,  if  one  may  say  so,  by  the  extraordb 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  379 

nary  and  tragical  incidents  of  the  day.  They  drank  not  less, 
but  rather  more,  in  order  to  sustain  their  spirits ;  they  took 
their  liquor  with  whispers  and  lowered  voice,  as  is  done  in  a 
house  where  one  lies  dead  ;  and  they  naturally  talked  much  on 
subjects  akin  to  what  was  in  their  thoughts,  as  if  seeking  con- 
solation in  recalling  examples  resembling  the  case  which  so 
much  touched  their  hearts.  Thus  King  Richard  the  Second 
is  represented  by  Shakespeare  as  loving,  when  in  captivity,  to 
talk  of  the  violent  deaths  of  princes. 

"  I  was  present,"  said  Captain  Petherick,  "  at  the  execution 
of  Admiral  Byng,  two  years  and  a  half  ago.  If  family  in- 
fluence could  have  availed,  he  would  have  been  spared.  Yet 
he  was  shot,  and  went  to  his  death  with  a  smiling  countenance." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Mr.  Shelvocke — but  I  know  not  whether 
this  was  true — "  the  death  of  Captain  Kirby  and  Captain  Wade 
for  cowardly  deserting  Admiral  Benbow,  and  that  was  fifty- 
seven  years  ago." 

Another  recalled  the  well-known  case  of  Lieutenant  Baker 
Philips,  shot  in  1745,  for  surrendering  the  Anglesea  to  the 
Apollon,  after  the  captain  and  first  lieutenant  were  both  killed. 
No  mercy  was  shown  to  him,  though  it  was  proved  that  he  had 
but  two  hundred  men  and  forty  guns  (and  of  his  crew  fifty 
killed  and  wounded),  against  the  French  crew  of  five  hundred 
men  with  fifty  guns.  Yet  they  shot  him  at  Spithead,  on  board 
the  Princess  Royal.  As  for  other  courts-martial,  Captain  Fox, 
of  the  Kent,  vf as  dismissed  his  ship  for  neglect  of  duty  in  1747. 
In  1744,  Admiral  Mathers  and  four  captains  were  cashiered  for 
neglect  of  duty.  In  the  same  year  the  master  of  the  Northum- 
berland, the  captain  being  mortally  wounded,  surrendered  the 
ship  before  the  lieutenant  could  get  on  deck.  Wherefore,  he 
was  sentenced  to  be  confined  in  the  Marshalsea  for  the  remain- 
der of  his  life.  "  And  there,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Underbill, 
"  he  lies  to  this  day,  and  but  last  Monday  se'nnight  I  saw  him, 
and  conversed  with  him — a  poor,  broken  man,  who  vainly  prays 
for  death." 

In  short,  the  talk  ran  wholly  upon  trials  and  executions  ;  the 
unhappy  young  man  now  lying  under  sentence  of  death  was, 
so  to  speak,  executed  beforehand  and  in  imagination  by  his 
friends,  who  stood  (for  him)  upon  the  quarter-deck,  eyes  ban- 
daged, arms  folded,  before  the  file  of  marines,  and  hoped  (for 


380  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

him)  nothing  more  than  a  happy  shot  through  heart  or  head, 
which  should  put  an  instant  stop  to  life.  Then  the  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  the  various  methods  of  violent  deaths,  all  of 
which  seem  to  be  accompanied  by  great,  and  some  by  pro- 
longed, agonies — such  as  breaking  on  the  wheel,  the  punish- 
ment of  the  knout,  or  burning  alive — and  there  was  much 
discussion  as  to  which  method  of  violent  death  seemed  the 
most  preferable. 

It  was  remarkable  that  Mr.  Brinjes,  generally  one  who  talked 
more  than  any,  for  the  most  part  sat  apart  during  this  gloomy 
talk,  taking  his  pipe  of  tobacco  without  much  share  in  the  con- 
versation, whether  from  excess  of  grief  or  from  the  callous 
disposition  of  old  age,  to  which  most  things  seem  to  matter 
little.  But  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  old  people  use,  without 
heed  to  those  who  are  about  them,  and  I  overheard  him. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  he  said,  "  the  boy  must  be  shot,  I  suppose,  and 
then  Bess  will  not  live.  She  will  certainly  live  no  longer  when 
he  is  gone.  So  I  have  lost  both.  She  will  go  drown  herself  as 
soon  as  the  shots  are  fired.  But  he  is  not  dead  yet ;  while  there 
is  life  there  is  hope  ;  who  knows  what  may  happen  ?  'Twill  be 
three,  and  perhaps  six  weeks  before  the  day  of  execution. 
Much  may  be  done  in  six  weeks.  The  lad  is  not  shot  yet,  nor 
is  Bess  drowned.  And  as  for  Aaron,  but  he  saved  the  cap- 
tain's life.  Wherefore,  though  he  did  it  with  an  ill  design,  I 
harm  him  not."  Presently  he  recovered  his  spirits,  and  looked 
about  him,  and  began  to  talk  in  a  more  cheerful  strain,  though 
how  he  could  put  on  a  show  of  cheerfulness  with  the  prospect 
before  him  of  Jack's  certain  execution  and  Bess's  self-murder 
passes  understanding.  "  The  lad  is  not  shot  yet !"  he  said. 
Why,  what  could  be  done  for  him  ?  Nothing.  A  reprieve  was 
past  praying  for.  Yet  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  pop- 
ular indignation  which  had  at  first  run  high  against  the  cap- 
tain who  thus  cowardly  surrendered,  quickly  subsided  and 
changed  into  compassion  when  the  circumstances  of  the  recap- 
ture became  known,  so  that  perhaps  a  reprieve  might  not  have 
been  so  impossible  had  there  been  any.  in  high  place  to  ask 
for  it. 

As  regards  the  condemned  man,  whom  I  saw  many  times 
after  the  sentence,  I  declare  that  I  have  never  known  any  man 
more  cheerful  and  resigned  to  his  fate  than  was  this  most  un- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  381 

fortunate  captain  during  the  three  weeks  which  passed  between 
his  sentence  and  the  day  of  his  execution.  Of  hope  he  had 
none ;  nor  did  he  desire  to  live. 

"  If  I  were  reprieved,"  he  said,  "  whither  should  I  go  ?  how 
live  ?  I  am  but  twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  I  might  live  for 
fifty  years  to  come,  even  into  the  next  century,  if  the  world 
endure  so  long,  with  the  accursed  remembrance  of  one  day 
always  in  my  mind,  and  among  people  who  would  never  tire 
of  pointing  at  the  captain  who  surrendered  his  ship  without 
striking  a  blow — one  single  blow — the  most  cowardly  surren- 
der in  the  history  of  the  British  navy.  Why,  'twould  be  every 
day  a  thousand  times  worse  than  the  pains  of  death.  My 
worst  enemy  could  devise  no  more  cruel  punishment  than  to 
send  me  forth  free  to  walk  the  streets  of  an  English  town. 
Nay,  Bess  " — for  she  was  with  him — "  'tis  idle  to  talk.  I  know 
what  thou  would'st  say,  dear  girl.  For  a  mad  act — we  know, 
my  dear,  why  that  madness  was  sent,  and  for  what  cause  per- 
mitted— no  man  should  be  held  responsible.  Why,  my  first 
lieutenant  was  here  yesterday,  and  said  as  much.  But  even  he 
does  not  know,  and  the  world  can  never  know,  the  whole  truth." 

In  those  last  days  Bess  was  with  him  always.  She  came  at 
eight  in  the  morning,  and  she  left  him  at  eight  in  the  evening. 
Everybody  knew  by  this  time  that  she  was  the  captain's  sweet- 
heart ;  no  one  found  it  strange  or  wonderful,  because  Bess  was 
the  finest  woman  in  Deptford,  and  the  captain  was  the  come- 
liest  man ;  and  people  only  sometimes  remembered  that  he  had 
been  reported  as  promised  to  the  daughter  of  the  admiral.  It 
astonished  me,  perhaps  because  I  daily  expected  and  feared  it, 
that  no  one  so  much  as  hinted  at  the  possibility  of  Bess  being 
engaged  in  witchcraft,  though  all  were  agreed  that  by  foul 
practices  the  captain  had  been  deprived  for  the  moment  of  his 
courage.  It  is  no  longer  the  custom  to  burn  witches ;  yet  I 
am  sure  that  if  any  woman  had  been  discovered,  or  even  sus- 
pected, by  the  good  people  of  Deptford  to  have  been  concerned 
in  this  wickedness,  she  would  have  suffered  every  torture  they 
could  have  devised.  Burning,  mere  burning,  would  have 
seemed  too  mild  a  punishment  for  a  woman  who  could  thus 
by  her  villainous  sorceries  turn  a  brave  man  into  a  coward. 
Again,  if  things  had  gone  well  with  this  poor  girl,  if  Jack  had 
returned  home  triumphant  and  victorious,  and  had  then  openly 


382  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

sought  his  humble  sweetheart,  there  were  plenty  of  women  who 
would  have  said  hard  and  cruel  things  concerning  her,  as  is 
their  way  with  each  other.  But  now,  when  her  lover  lay  un- 
der sentence  of  death,  they  refrained  their  tongues  ;  nay,  they 
even  said  good  things  of  her,  reckoning  it  to  her  credit  that, 
for  the  sake  of  the  captain,  she  would  receive  the  addresses  of 
no  other  man,  and  that  she  sent  Aaron  Fletcher  about  his  busi- 
ness, and  consorted  with  none  of  her  former  friends  (who  were 
beneath  the  notice  of  a  captain's  lady),  and  sought  in  the  so- 
ciety of  Mr.  Brinjes  to  acquire  the  manners  and  the  bearing 
of  a  gentlewoman.  When  she  went  down  to  the  Stairs  in  the 
morning,  those  women  whom  she  passed  on  her  way  stood  aside 
for  her  in  silence,  and  looked  after  her  with  compassion  in  their 
eyes,  and  even  with  tears ;  and  those,  perhaps,  the  rudest  women 
of  the  place,  fit  companions  for  the  rudest  sailors,  abandoned 
in  morals,  soddened  with  drink,  foul  of  tongue,  and  ever  ready 
to  strike  and  to  swear.  So  that  pity  may  find  a  home  in  the 
most  savage  breast. 

She  sat  with  Jack,  therefore,  all  day  long  in  the  cabin,  which 
was  his  condemned  cell.  For  the  first  day  or  two  she  wept 
continually.  Then  she  ceased  her  crying  altogether,  and  sat 
with  dry  eyes.  She  said  nothing,  but  she  looked  upon  her 
sweetheart  always,  as  if  hungering  after  the  sight  of  his  dear 
face.  But  from  time  to  time  she  rose  and  flung  out  her  arms, 
as  if  she  could  not  bear  herself.  This  was  natural  when  a 
woman  regains  her  lover  only  to  lose  him  by  a  violent  death. 
One  evening  I  walked  home  with  her  through  the  town,  and 
she  told  me,  poor  girl,  what  was  in  her  mind.  "  I  shall  not 
live  after  him,"  she  said — "  of  that  I  am  resolved.  Why,  if  it 
be  as  he  says,  that  Heaven  hath  punished  him  for  his  incon- 
stancy, was  it  not  through  my  mouth  that  the  punishment  was 
pronounced  ?  Where  he  goes,  I  shall  go.  When  he  dies,  I  shall 
die.  In  that  same  hour  when  the  bullets  tear  his  dear  heart 
shall  I  die  too ;  and  so  my  soul  shall  join  his.  I  know  not,"  she 
said,  wildly,  "  oh !  I  know  not  whither  we  shall  be  sent  in  the 
next  world ;  and  I  care  nothing — no,  nothing — so  only  that  we 
go  there  together.  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  is  forgiven  all  his 
sins,  if  ever  he  committed  any,  though  I  know  not  that  they 
can  be  worth  considering.  And  he  dies  for  them.  What  can 
a  man  do  more  ?  As  for  me,  I  am  not  afraid,  because  I  have 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  383 

always  gone  to  church  every  Sunday  morning.  Oh !  I  doubt 
not  we  shall  go  to  heaven  together,  and  sit  hand-in-hand,  and 
side  by  side ;  and  perhaps  we  shall  forget  the  past,  somehow, 
and  then  the  old  brave  look  will  come  back  to  my  boy's  eyes. 
What  would  heaven  be  to  him  if  I  were  not  with  him — and 
what  to  me  if  my  Jack  were  not  beside  me  ?  And  oh  !  Luke, 
he  loves  me  now  more  tenderly  than  ever  he  loved  me  before. 
And  I  am  happy,  though  I  know  that  we  have  but  a  day  or  two 
more  to  live.  They  tell  me  that  to  be  shot  gives  no  pain ;  else 
I  could  not  bear  it,  and  must  die  first." 

I  pointed  out  to  her  the  wickedness  of  self-destruction ;  but 
she  would  not  listen,  crying  wildly  that  she  cared  for  no  wicked- 
ness— not  she — so  that  she  could  join  in  death,  as  well  as  in  life, 
the  man  she  loved.  Surely  there  never  was  woman  who  loved 
man  with  so  violent  a  passion ;  and  now  in  these  last  days, 
when  it  was  all  too  late,  there  never  was  girl  more  truly  loved. 

"  'Tis  the  fondest  heart,  Luke  !"  said  Jack,  the  tears  in  his 
eyes.  "  Why,  for  thy  sake,  sweet  Bess,  I  would  be  almost  con- 
tented to  live,  and  to  forget  the  past.  If  we  could  go  somewhere 
together,  where  no  man  knew  or  could  find  out  my  dishonor — 
if  we  could  go  and  live  on  one  of  the  islands  in  the  Southern 
Seas—  But  this  is  idle  talk." 

Then  the  time  drew  near  when  the  sentence  must  be  carried 
out.  We  expected  from  day  to  day  to  hear  that  the  time  was 
fixed. 

About  a  fortnight  after  the  sentence  a  sudden  and  most  sur- 
prising change  came  over  Bess.  She  left  off  crying  altogether  ; 
sometimes,  even,  she  laughed  ;  she  seemed  not  to  know,  or  even 
to  care,  what  she  said  or  did.  She  would  throw  herself  into 
Jack's  arms,  and  kiss  him  passionately ;  at  the  next  moment 
she  would  tear  herself  free,  and  stand  gasping  and  panting, 
and  with  wild  eyes,  as  if  with  impatience,  so  that  I  feared  lest 
she  should  lose  her  reason  altogether.  I  have  heard  that  per- 
sons condemned  to  the  flames  by  the  accursed  Inquisition 
(which  they  dare  to  call  holy)  have  been  known  to  go  mad 
with  the  terror,  of  looking  forward  to  that  awful  torture.  Sure 
I  am  that  no  flames  of  the  stake  could  be  more  dreadful  to 
Bess  than  the  thought  of  the  moment  when  her  lover  would 
fall  dead,  pierced  by  a  dozen  bullets.  Jack  at  such  times 
would  try  to  calm  her,  but  she  shook  him  off,  crying  "  No — no. 


384  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

Let  me  be.  Oh  !  I  am  choking.  Oh !  Jack — my  dear — if  you 
knew  what  is  in  my  heart !  Yes — Jack.  I  will  be  quiet.  Oh  ! 
what  a  wretch  am  I  that  I  should  add  to  your  trouble  at  such 
a  time !"  Then  she  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and  caught  his 
hands.  "  Jack,"  she  cried,  "  you  know  that  I  am  your  servant 
and  your  slave.  Oh  !  if  I  loved  you  when  all  the  world  spoke 
well  of  you,  think  how  much  more  I  love  you  now  you  have 
got  no  one — oh  !  no  one  but  your  poor  fond  girl !" 

He  raised  her  and  kissed  her.  Nothing  now  could  move 
him  but  the  sight  of  her  tears  and  suffering,  which  (I  am  not 
ashamed  to  write  this  down)  brought  tears  to  my  own  eyes. 

"  Let  us  pretend,"  she  said — "  let  us  talk  like  children — oh ! 
we  were  once  happy  children,  and  we  could  pretend  and  believe 
what  we  pleased.  Why — all  this  is  only  pretence.  The  cabin 
is  our  old  summer-house  ;  you  are  only  twelve  years  of  age,  and 
I  am  a  little  girl ;  and  we  have  been  playing  at  courts-martial. 
No,"  she  shuddered, "  that  is  a  dreadful  game.  We  will  play 
at  something  else.  We  are  going  away— you  and  I  togeth- 
er, Jack — we  shall  take  a  ship  and  sail  far  away  from  Eng- 
land to  the  islands  you  have  seen,  and  Mr.  Brinjes  talks  about 
— we  will  live  there — oh !  no  one  will  ever  find  us  out.  We 
have  long  to  live.  I  will  work  for  you,  and  you  will  forget  all 
that  has  happened.  Then  we  shall  grow  old.  Do  you  think 
you  would  love  an  old  woman,  Jack,  who  had  lost  her  beauty 
and  gone  gray  and  toothless  ?  And  then  we  would  lie  down 
and  die  together.  Why — whatever  happens,  we  will  die  to- 
gether— we  must  die  together.  Jack — Jack —  Oh  !  if  we 
could  go  away ;  oh !  if  we  could  go  away  together — to  leave 
it  all  behind,  and  to  forget  it !" 

"  Patience,  dear  heart,"  he  said.  "  Patience,  Bess  ;  it  tears 
me  to  see  thee  suffer." 

I  was  with  them ;  and — but  who  could  see  and  listen  to  him 
without  tears  ?  I  am  not  a  stock  or  stone. 

"  Patience  ?"  she  replied.  "  Yes,  yes !  I  will  have  patience  ! 
Jack,  do  you  remember  three  years  ago,  the  day  we  were  in  the 
summer-house,  Luke  being  present,  you  solemnly  made  a  great 
promise  ?" 

"  I  remember,  Bess.  God  knows  I  have  reason  to  remember 
not  only  the  promise,  but  how  I  kept  it." 

"  Make  me  one  more  promise,  Jack."     She  laid  her  hands 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  385 

upon  his  arm.  "  Make  me  one  more  promise  now.  Luke  is 
here  again  to  witness  for  us." 

"  Why,  child,  what  promise  can  I  make  thee  now  ?  A  dying 
man  can  neither  make  nor  break  a  promise.  Shall  I  promise 
to  love  thee  in  the  next  world  ?" 

"  Nay,  promise  what  I  shall  tell  thee.  Say,  after  me,  I,  Jack 
Easterbrook — " 

"  I,  Jack  Easterbrook,"  he  repeated. 

"  Do  swear  solemnly,  before  God  Almighty — " 

He  repeated  these  words. 

"  That  I  will  grant  to  Bess  Westmoreland  one  more  request, 
whatever  she  may  ask  me,  before  I  die." 

He  said  after  her,  concluding  with  the  words, 

"  Whatever  she  may  ask  me,  before  I  die." 

She  fetched  a  great  sigh,  and  kissed  him  again  ;  and,  throw- 
ing her  arms  round  his  neck,  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  understand  what  she  meant ; 
and  still  I  thought  that  her  brain  must  be  wandering  with  her 
troubles. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

HOW    BESS    WENT    AWAY. 

IT  was  only  three  weeks  after  the  sentence  that  the  con- 
demned man  received  a  summons  to  prepare  himself  for  his 
execution,  which  was  fixed  for  Monday,  February  the  23d. 
This  was  a  shorter  space  between  sentence  and  execution 
than  was  awarded  to  the  unhappy  Admiral  Byng,  who  had 
eight  weeks  in  which  to  prepare  himself  for  death.  How- 
ever, Jack  complained  not,  and  received  the  announcement  in  a 
becoming  spirit,  and  presently  sent  a  letter  to  my  father,  who 
lost  no  time  in  visiting  him,  and  continued  daily  to  visit  him 
until  the  day  of  execution. 

Now,  here  I  have  to  write  down  a  strange  thing,  and  one 
which  is  hardly  to  be  credited.  From  the  day  of  his  trial 
(when,  as  I  have  said,  the  court  was  crowded  with  ladies)  to  the 
day  before  the  execution,  the  ship  was  visited  by  ladies  curious 
to  see,  and,  if  possible,  to  converse  with  this  young  and  unfort- 
17 


386  THE    WORLD    WENT  VERY    WELL    THEN. 

unate  officer.  But  he  would  not  receive  any.  Nay,  every  day 
letters  came  to  him  full  of  tender  messages  and  of  prayers, 
some  of  them  entreating  him  to  grant  them  an  interview,  some 
openly  declaring  their  passion  for  him,  some  humbly  asking 
for  a  lock  of  his  hair,  or  a  line  in  his  handwriting,  some  beg- 
ging him  to  observe  secrecy  in  his  replies,  and  some  offering 
their  services  in  high  quarters  to  procure  him  a  pardon  or  a 
reprieve.  To  none  of  these  letters  did  Jack  reply  a  word,  but 
tore  all  up  and  threw  the  fragments  from  his  cabin  window. 
One  day,  however  (it  was  after  the  day  had  been  fixed  for 
carrying  out  the  sentence),  there  came  a  lady  on  board  who 
would  take  no  denial,  but  wrote  down  her  name  upon  the  back 
of  a  playing-card  and  peremptorily  ordered  that  it  should  be 
taken  to  the  prisoner.  She  was  very  finely  dressed,  and  they 
took  her  for  a  great  lady,  and  obeyed  her,  taking  the  card  to 
the  captain's  cabin.  She  was  so  quick,  however,  that  she  fol- 
lowed the  messenger,  and  so  forced  her  way  in. 

"  My  handsome  Jack  !"  she  cried,  but  stopped  short,  because 
she  found  another  woman  with  him. 

"  Madam,"  said  Jack,  rising,  "  this  is  an  unexpected  honor." 

"  I  came,  captain,"  she  said,  "  because  we  are  old  friends, 
and  because  I  would  fain  help  thee  if  I  can." 

"  No  one  can,  madam." 

"  And  because  if  I  cannot,  thou  mayst  still  help  me." 

"  You  may  command  me,  madam." 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  looking  still  at  Bess,  "  why  so  formal,  Jack  ? 
'Tis  terrible  to  think  that  in  a  few  days — " 

"  Madam,my  time  is  short ;  pray  remember  that,  and  be  brief." 

"  Why,  captain,"  she  laughed,  "  'twas  but  a  little  thing ;  and 
perhaps  this  lady  will  grant  me  five  minutes  alone — " 

"  It  needs  not,"  said  Jack ;  "  you  can  speak  openly  before  her." 

"  In  that  case  it  will  be  needless.  Yet  I  will  try.  Captain, 
thou  art  condemned  to  die.  'Tis  sad,  indeed.  Yet  'tis  true. 
Now  consider  my  case.  I  am  deeply  in  debt.  I  have  quarrelled 
with  my  lord.  Marry  me,  and  so  take  my  debts  off  my  back. 
Nay,  madam,"  for  Bess  sprang  to  her  feet,  "  be  pacified.  'Tis 
but  an  empty  form  that  I  ask.  He  shall  marry  me,  and  I  will 
retire  with  the  clergyman,  and  so  he  will  free  me  at  a  stroke  of 
all  my  debts." 

"  Madam,"  said  Jack,  before  Bess  could  find  time  to  speak, 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  387- 

"  you  are  unfortunately  too  late.  It  is  impossible  that  I  could 
gratify  you  in  this  request,  because  I  am  married  already. 
This  lady  is  my  wife — my  most  unfortunate  wife." 

"  Oh,  madam !"  said  the  actress,  with  a  deep  courtesy,  "  I  beg 
humbly  to  be  forgiven !  Believe  me,  I  did  not  know.  Well, 
captain,"  she  heaved  a  sigh,  "of  all  the  men  I  have  ever  known 
thou  hast  gone  nearest  to  make  me  think  I  have  a  heart.  My 
poor  Jack !"  She  seized  his  hand  and  kissed  it.  "  Oh,  mad- 
am," she  turned  to  Bess,  "  I  thought  not  of  this.  I  thought  I 
should  find  him  over  a  bowl  of  punch,  drinking  away  his  care. 
Alas !  I  remember  you  now.  You  loved  him,  and — I  remem- 
ber you —  Poor  child  !  Who  shall  comfort  thee  ?" 

So  she  stole  away,  weeping,  and  left  them  alone. 

It  was,  indeed,  true.  The  first  service  which  Jack  had  asked 
of  my  father  was  to  marry  him  to  Bess  Westmoreland.  It 
was  done  secretly  in  the  cabin,  with  no  other  witnesses  than 
myself  and  the  first  lieutenant,  Mr.  Colin  Macdonald.  So  Bess 
got  her  heart's  desire,  and  the  old  witch's  prophecy  proved 
true — that  in  the  midst  of  troubles  she  should  marry  the  man 
she  loved.  But  what  a  marriage !  After  this  my  father,  as 
I  have  said,  visited  him  daily,  and  every  morning  asked  the 
prayers  of  the  congregation  for  one  about  to  die. 

Then,  as  day  followed  day,  and  there  wanted  but  two  or 
three  more,  Bess  became  still  more  strange  in  her  manner,  show- 
ing a  restlessness  and  impatience,  so  that  she  could  no  longer 
remain  quiet  for  five  minutes  together,  but  must  needs  be  pac- 
ing backward  and  forward,  not  crying  or  lamenting,  but  with 
burning  face  and  eyes  afire. 

The  sentence  was  to  be  carried  out  on  the  Monday  morning. 
On  Sunday,  with  a  heart  as  heavy  as  lead,  I  prepared  to  say 
farewell. 

I  went  on  board  about  ten  o'clock,  at  the  time  of  morning 
prayers.  Bess  was  already  in  the  cabin,  seated  at  the  window, 
which  was  open,  though  the  morning  was  cold,  her  face  pressed 
against  the  bars.  Jack  was  at  the  table  writing  a  letter  for  the 
admiral. 

"  It  is  nearly  finished,  dear  lad,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  a 
smile.  "  Courage !  The  worst  was  over  when  the  trial  was 
done.  To  die  would  be  nothing — but  for  leaving  Bess.  Be 
kind  to  her,  Luke ;  be  kind  to  her." 


388  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

I  looked  to  see  her  burst  into  tears.  But  no— she  listened 
without  a  tear  or  even  a  sob.  "  This  night,  after  I  have  parted 
with  her,  will  be  long,  I  fear.  Your  father  hath  comforted  me 
greatly  in  the  matter  of  religion,  wherefore  I  have  now  a  sure 
and  certain  hope,  if  I  may  humbly  say  so,  though  hitherto  I 
have  thought  little  of  these  matters.  It  is  a  blessed  thing  for 
thoughtless  sailors  that  we  have  a  Church  to  rule  our  faith,  and 
forms  of  prayer  to  save  our  souls.  He  will  come  to-morrow, 
for  the  last  prayers,  before  seven.  At  eight,  the  boats  of  the 
ships  in  port  will  surround  the  ship,  the  death-signal  will  be 
displayed,  a  gun  will  be  fired,  the  crew  will  be  drawn  up  on  the 
deck,  and  the  prisoner  will  be  brought  out."  Bess  listened 
without  changing  her  countenance.  Was  she,  then,  turned  into 
stone  by  sorrow,  like  Niobe  ? 

I  cannot  write  down  the  words  with  which  he  bade  me  fare- 
well, nor  my  own.  Suffice  it  that  we  took  leave  of  each  other 
with,  on  my  side,  all  that  a  bleeding  heart  could  find  to  say, 
and  on  his,  with  a  message  which  I  made  haste  to  deliver  to 
the  admiral,  his  patron  and  benefactor. 

Then  I  left  him  alone  with  Bess. 

It  was  arranged  that  they  should  part  upon  the  hour  when 
she  must  leave  the  ship  and  go  ashore.  He  was  peremptory 
that  she  must  not  try  to  see  him  in  the  morning,  lest  the  sight 
of  her  might  unman  him.  To  stand  upon  the  deck  with  eyes 
unbandaged,  resolute,  and  firm,  was  the  only  duty  left  for  him 
to  perform.  Therefore  Bess  must  part  with  him  on  Sunday 
night.  She  acquiesced,  still  without  a  single  tear.  But  when 
the  hour  drew  near,  instead  of  hanging  round  his  neck  and 
weeping,  she  took  both  his  hands  in  hers  and  said, 

"  Jack — dear  Jack — my  own  Jack ! — you  made  me  a  promise 
the  other  day.  The  time  hath  come  to  keep  it." 

"  A  promise,  dear  heart  ?     Why,  what  can  I  do  for  thee  now  ?" 

"You  would  grant  any  request  that  I  should  make.  The 
time  hath  now  come." 

"  'Tis  granted  beforehand,  dear  girl." 

"  My  request,  Jack,  is  that  you  will  live,  and  not  die." 

"Bess?" 

"  That  you  will  live,  and  not  die.  Listen !  We  have  ar- 
ranged everything  for  this  evening.  Mr.  Brinjes  hath  man- 
aged all  for  us.  See  !" — she  whispered  him  very  earnestly. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          389 

He  gazed  at  her  in  a  sort  of  stupefaction. 

"  We  shall  not  stay  in  the  country.  A  Dutch  boat  waits  us 
off  Barking  Creek ;  the  master,  a  boy,  and  yourself  will  sail 
her  across  to  Holland.  If  the  wind  is  fair,  we  shall  make  a 
Dutch  port  in  a  day  ;  oh !  it  is  all  arranged.  We  shall  not 
stay  in  Holland,  but  take  ship  to  the  Dutch  East  Indies,  and 
thence  to  the  South  Seas,  where  we  will  live — oh !  my  Jack — 
far,  far  away  from  the  world  ;  and  I  will  work  for  thee.  So 
we  shall  forget  the  past  and  Deptford,  and — and — everything, 
and  there  will  be  a  new  life  for  us — oh !  a  new  life,  whether  it 
be  short  or  long,  with  no  one  to  remind  us  of  what  hath  hap- 
pened. Oh!  my  poor  tortured  dear — it  is  through  me — 
through  me — that  all  this  disgrace  hath  come  upon  thee ;  yes 
— and  it  shall  be  through  me  that  thy  life  shall  be  saved !" 

"  Bess,  I  cannot !  They  would  say  that  it  was  fitting  that 
one  who  could  cowardly  strike  the  flag  should  also  cowardly 
run  away  from  punishment." 

"  What  matter  what  they  say  ?  Shall  we  care  what  they  say 
when  we  are  sailing  together  among  those  islands?  Will  it 
touch  our  hearts  any  more  to  think  of  their  praise  or  blame  ?" 

"  Bess,  I  cannot ! — oh  !  my  tender  heart,  I  cannot !" 

"  Then,  Jack,  thou  shalt.  Thy  promise  is  passed — a  solemn 
promise  before  God.  Wilt  thou  break  that  promise  too,  and 
go  before  Heaven,  thy  last  act  another  broken  pledge  ?" 

Well,  he  fought  awhile,  and  he  yielded  at  length ;  and  then 
she  kissed  him  and  went  away ;  but  she  held  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes,  so  that  those  who  saw  her  might  not  suspect. 

At  the  head  of  the  gangway,  which,  for  the  convenience  of 
the  court-martial,  had  been  made  into  an  accommodation-lad- 
der, furnished  with  rails  and  entering-ropes,  stood  Aaron  Fletch- 
er on  guard. 

"  Thou  art  satisfied  at  last,  Aaron  ?"  said  Bess. 

"  Not  yet,  but  I  shall  be  to-morrow,"  he  replied,  whispering, 
because  a  sentry  must  not  talk. 

She  said  no  more,  but  passed  down  the  steps  and  into  the  boat. 

In  the  afternoon,  being  in  great  distress  of  heart,  I  went  to 
visit  Mr.  Brinjes.  He  was  not  sleeping,  but  was  busied  over  a 
great  number  of  small  packages  arranged  in  order  upon  the 
table. 

"  I  have  seen  the  last  of  him." 


390  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

"  Ay  ?     Is  Bess  with  him?"  said  he. 

"  I  am  troubled  about  Bess.  I  think  she  hath  gone  dis- 
tracted ;  for  she  weeps  110  more,  and  once  I  saw  her  laugh. 
She  catches  her  breath,  too,  and  is  impatient." 

"  For  her  distraction  I  will  answer.  I  know  a  remedy  for 
it,  and  that  remedy  she  shall  have.  As  for  the  catching  of 
her  breath,  that  too  shall  be  cured :  as  for  her  impatience,  I 
cannot  help  it,  because  it  was  impossible  to  complete  the  job 
before  to-day." 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

"  Hath  not  Bess  told  you,  then  ?  Why,  she  was  to  have  told 
you  this  morning  before  she  broke  the  thing  to  Jack.  "Tis 
a  good  girl  who  can  keep  a  secret.  It  is  not  true,  mind  ye, 
that  no  woman  can  keep  a  secret.  Where  their  lovers  are  con- 
cerned, they  can  keep  fifty  thousand  basketfuls  of  secrets,  and 
never  spill  so  much  as  a  single  one." 

He  began  to  open  the  packets,  and  to  count  their  contents. 
They  contained  guineas,  about  fifty  in  each  packet,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  end  to  them. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  comes  of  twenty  years'  honest  industry. 
If  a  man  takes  in  his  shop  six  half-crowns  a  day,  and  spends 
only  one,  in  twenty  years  he  shall  be  master,  look  you,  of  no 
less  than  four  thousand  pounds." 

Heavens !  could  he  really  be  the  owner  of  so  great  a  proper- 
ty? When  he  had  counted  the  money  he  dropped  it  in 
three  or  four  leathern  bags,  which  he  tied  to  a  belt  below  his 
waistcoat.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  if  we  capsize,  I  shall  go  straight 
to  Davy's  Locker.  Give  me  the  skull-stick,  my  lad — so."  He 
looked  at  the  horrid  thing  with  admiration.  "  I  thought  at 
first  of  giving  it  to  Philadelphy,  but  now  I  will  not,  because 
she  has  lied  to  me  about  the  great  secret,  which  I  find  she 
doth  not,  after  all,  possess.  So  much  I  suspected.  She  shall 
not  have  the  Obeah  stick.  Besides,  Heaven  knows  whither 
we  are  going,  or  what  powers  we  may  want ;  therefore,  I  shall 
keep  the  stick."  He  wrapped  a  cloth  about  the  skull,  and  tied 
it  up  so  that  no  one  should  know  what  it  was.  Then  he  laid 
it  upon  the  table. 

I  observed  then  that  everything  was  ready  as  if  for  depart- 
ure. The  shelves  were  empty ;  the  fire  was  out ;  there  were 
ashes  of  burned  paper  in  the  grate ;  the  famous  charts  were 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  391 

rolled  up  and  lying  on  the  table  beside  the  skull-stick.  What 
did  it  mean  ? 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  since  Bess  hath  not  told  you,  I  will  not 
either.  But — I  think  we  can  trust  thee,  Luke — surely  we  can 
trust  thee,  if  any  one.  Thou  lovest  Jack,  I  know,  and  Bess 
too,  in  thy  mild  and  milky  way.  Why,  a  lad  of  spirit  would 
have  carried  the  girl  off  years  ago,  Jack  or  no  Jack.  However 
— that  is  enough.  My  lad,  we  want  thy  help.  There  is  no 
other  that  we  can  trust.  It  is  life  or  death — life  or  death — 
life  or  death.  Say  that  to  thyself,  and  forget  not  to  be  here  at 
nine  of  the  clock  this  evening" 

"  What  is  to  be  done  at  nine  ?" 

"  It  is  life  or  death,  I  say.  Life  or  death  !  Now  go ;  I  have 
much  to  do.  It  is  life  or  death.  Two  lives  or  two  deaths. 
Life  or  death.  Therefore,  fail  not." 

At  nine  o'clock  I  kept  my  appointment,  wondering  what 
would  happen. 

Bess  was  there,  wrapped  in  a  cloak  and  hood ;  in  her  hands 
she  carried  a  small  parcel.  Mr.  Brinjes  was  waiting,  muffled 
and'  cloaked,  his  hat  tied  over  his  ears,  and  a  roll — containing,  I 
suppose,  his  charts  and  famous  skull-stick — under  his  arm. 

"  Come,  lad,"  he  said,  "  thou  shalt  know  soon  what  it  is  we 
have  to  do." 

It  was  a  dark  and  rainy  night ;  the  wind  blew  in  gusts ;  the 
streets  were  deserted,  save  for  some  drunken  fellow,  who  rolled 
along,  bawling  as  he  went.  Mr.  Brinjes  led  the  way  towards 
the  river,  and  we  were  presently  at  the  Stairs,  where  the  boats 
lay  fastened  to  the  rings  by  their  long  painters. 

"  Take  the  outside  boat  of  all,"  said  the  apothecary ;  "  her 
oars  are  left  in  her  on  purpose.  So,  haul  her  to  the  stairs. 
Step  in,  Bess.  She  is  but  a  little  dingy,  but  she  will  serve. 
Luke  you  have  to  row.  You  may  shut  your  eyes,  and  keep 
them  shut,  if  you  like,  for  I  shall  steer." 

I  began  to  suspect  that  something  serious  was  to  be  attempt- 
ed, but  I  obeyed  without  question  or  remonstrance. 

'Twas  then  high  tide,  or  a  little  on  the  ebb,  so  that  at  mid- 
night the  ebb  would  be  at  its  strongest.  I  untied  the  painter 
and  shoved  off.  Then  I  took  my  seat  and  the  oars,  and  rowed 
while  Mr.  Brinjes  steered. 


392  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

The  river  was  rough  and  dark,  save  for  the  lights  displayed 
by  the  ships.  The  Calypso  was  moored  very  nearly  off  the- 
mouth  of  the  dock,  but  in  mid-stream.  Mr.  Brinjes  suffered 
me  to  row  almost  across  the  river,  as  if  he  were  making  for 
one  of  the  stairs  on  the  other  side.  Then  he  put  her  head  up 
stream,  and  steered  so  that  the  boat  approached  the  Calypso, 
whose  lights  he  knew,  not  as  if  we  were  boarding  her,  but  as  if 
we  were  making  our  way  across  her  bows  to  the  Dog-and-Duck 
Stairs  of  Redriff.  The  precaution  was  not  necessary,  perhaps, 
seeing  how  dark  it  was;  but  the  eyes  of  sailors  are  sharper 
than  those  of  landsmen,  and  the  watch  must  not  allow  a  boat 
to  approach  a  ship  without  a  challenge.  We  crossed  the  bows, 
therefore,  of  the  Calypso,  I  still  rowing,  and  the  boat  apparent- 
ly heading  for  the  opposite  shore. 

But  while  we  were  still  under  the  shadow,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  great  ship's  bows,  my  cockswain  whispered,  "  Easy  rowing 
— ship  oars." 

I  could  not  guess  what  he  intended.     'Twas  this. 

The  Calypso  lay  pretty  high  out  of  water.  The  tide  was 
running  strong.  Mr.  Brinjes  turned  the  boat's  head  and  ran 
her  straight  under  the  side  of  the  ship.  lie  then,  being  as 
quick  and  skilful  in  the  handling  of  a  boat  as  any  man  sixty 
years  younger,  stepped  into  the  bows,  and  with  hand  and  boat- 
hook  worked  the  boat  along  the  side  of  the  vessel  to  the  stern, 
where  he  hooked  on,  and  whispered  that  we  must  now  wait. 

"We  have  more  than  two  hours  still  to  wait.  I  think  the 
watch  will  have  no  suspicion,  and  'tis  better  to  wait  here  an 
hour  or  two  than  to  hurry  at  the  end,  and  so  perhaps  be  seen 
and  the  whole  plot  spoiled.  Here  we  lie  snug." 

We  might  be  lying  snug,  but  we  lay  more  than  commonly 
cold,  and  the  wind  and  rain  beat  into  one's  face.  Bess  sat, 
however,  with  her  hood  thrown  back,  careless  of  cold  or  rain ; 
and  Mr.  Brinjes  lay  muffled  up  in  the  bows.  But  in  his  hand 
he  held  the  boat-hook. 

The  ship's  bells  and  the  town  clocks  and  the  Greenwich 
clocks  made  such  a  clashing  in  our  ears,  every  quarter  of  an 
hour,  as  kept  us  aware  of  the  time — never  before  did  I  under- 
stand how  slowly  he  crawleth.  Why,  there  seemed  to  me  an 
hour  between  each  quarter,  and  a  whole  night  between  each 
hour. 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

When  the  clocks  began  to  strike  midnight  Bess  looked  up 
and  the  old  man  threw  off  his  cloak.  "  Oars  out,"  he  whispered. 
"  Gently.  Don't  splash.  Here  he  is  !" 

We  were  immediately,  though  I  knew  it  not,  below  the  win- 
dows of  Jack's  cabin,  which  was  the  captain's  stateroom.  Be- 
low his  window  were  those  of  the  first  and  second  lieutenants, 
and  Mr.  Brinjes  had  chosen  the  time  of  midnight  because  then 
the  watches  would  be  changing,  and  these  officers  would  be  on 
deck  or  else  fast  asleep.  It  was  as  he  expected.  The  end  of 
a  rope  fell  into  the  water  close  beside  the  boat,  and  then,  hand 
under  hand,  our  prisoner  came  swiftly  down.  In  a  moment  he 
was  sitting  in  the  stern.  Then  Mr.  Brinjes  let  go,  and  the  tide, 
hurrying  down  the  river  as  fast  as  a  mill-race,  carried  us  noise- 
lessly and  swiftly  away. 

No  one  spoke,  but  Mr.  Brinjes  again  took  the  ropes,  and  I  be- 
gan to  row.  We  were  very  soon,  keeping  in  mid-stream,  past 
Greenwich  and  past  Woolwich,  I  rowing  as  hard  as  I  could, 
and  the  ebb-tide  strong,  so  that  we  made  very  good  way  indeed. 

Presently  we  came  alongside  a  small  vessel  lying  moored  off 
Barking  Creek,  and  Mr.  Brinjes  steered  the  boat  alongside,  and 
caught  a  rope. 

"  Now,  Bess,"  he  said,  "  quick ;  climb  up." 

She  caught  hold  of  the  cleats,  and  ran  up  the  rude  gangway 
as  nimbly  as  any  sailor.  Mr.  Brinjes  followed. 

Then  Jack  seized  my  hand.  "  Farewell,  dear  lad,"  he  said, 
"  I  thought  not  to  see  thee  again.  Farewell." 

So  he  followed,  and  left  me  alone  in  the  boat. 

"  Sheer  off,  Luke,"  said  Mr.  Brinjes,  looking  over  the  side, 
"  sheer  off,  and  take  her  back  to  the  Stairs.  Tell  no  one  what 
hath  been  done.  Farewell.  We  sail  for  the  Southern  Seas." 

Then  I  saw  that  they  were  hoisting  sail.  She  was  a  Dutch 
galiot,  carrying  a  main  and  mizzen  mast,  with  a  large  gaff  main- 
sail. These,  with  a  staysail,  a  flying  topsail,  and  one  or  two 
bowsprit  jibs,  would,  with  this  wind  and  tide,  take  her  down 
to  the  North  Foreland  very  quickly,  after  which,  if  the  wind 
still  continued  fair,  she  might  expect  to  make  the  port  of  Rot- 
terdam in  sixteen  or  perhaps  twenty  hours  more. 

When  I  had  painfully  pulled  the  boat  up-stream  and  gotten 
her  back  in  her  place  at  the  Stairs,  and  was  at  last  in  bed,  I  be- 
gan to  understand  fully  what  had  been  done — namely,  that  a 
17* 


394  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

great  crime  had  been  committed  in  the  rescue  of  a  prisoner 
sentenced  to  death,  and  that,  with  my  two  accomplices,  I  was 
liable  to  be  tried  and — I  fell  asleep  before  I  could  remember 
what  the  punishment  would  be. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE     CONCLUSION. 

THE  next  morning  my  father  was  astir  by  six ;  and  I,  hear- 
ing him,  and  remembering  suddenly  what  had  happened,  could 
sleep  no  more,  but  rose  quickly  and  dressed.  He  was  already 
in  wig  and  cassock ;  his  clerk  in  readiness  with  Prayer-book, 
Bible,  and  the  materials  wherewith  to  administer  the  Supper  of 
the  Lord. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  the  ministration  to  a  dying  man  is  the 
most  awful  part  of  a  clergyman's  holy  duties ;  and  yet  it  is  that 
which  should  most  fill  him  with  gratitude  and  joy.  Terrible  it 
is  at  all  times  to  watch  the  soul  take  its  flight  into  the  unknown 
regions ;  most  terrible  of  all  when  deatli  comes  violently  upon 
one  still  young  and  strong  and  in  the  prime  of  his  day." 

More  he  would  have  said ;  but  here  we  were  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  the  admiral  himself,  borne  in  an  arm-chair  by  his 
four  negroes,  his  feet  swathed  in  flannel,  and  himself  wrapped 
in  warm  cloaks,  for  'twas  dangerous  for  him  to  leave  the  warmth 
of  his  own  room. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  when  the  men  had  set  him  down,  "  you 
are  now  about  to  comfort  our  boy  in  his  last  moments."  Here 
he  paused  awhile,  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks.  "  His 
last  moments,  poor  lad,"  he  repeated.  "  I  could  not  lie  still 
and  think  that  he  should  die  without  a  word  from  me.  There- 
fore, though  I  would  not  turn  his  thoughts  away  from  religion, 
I  cannot  let  him  die  with  never  a  word  from  his  father's  oldest 
friend.  'Twere  inhuman.  Tell  him,  therefore,  from  me,  that 
I  now  plainly  perceive  that  he  was  mad.  Other  men  besides 
himself  have  gone  mad  at  sea.  I  know  one  who  went  mad  and 
jumped  overboard,  in  a  storm ;  and  another  who  went  mad  and 
ran  amuck  on  the  quarter-deck  with  a  cutlass,  wounding  many 
before  he  was  disarmed ;  and  another — but  no  matter.  He 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  395 

was  mad.  Tell  him  that  for  the  act  of  God  there  is  nothing 
but  resignation.  The  thing  might  have  happened  to  any.  We 
are  fools  to  feel  any  shame  in  it.  As  for  all  that  went  before 
and  that  came  after  his  madness,  tell  him  we  are  proud  of  him 
therefor,  and  we  shall  remain  proud  of  him.  But  for  his  own 
sake,  we  are  grieved  that  he  was  not  killed  in  the  recapture  of 
the  vessel.  Bid  him,  therefore,  meet  his  death  with  a  calm 
heart — a  brave  heart,  I  know,  will  not  fail  him.  Take  him  my 
last  blessing,  and  my  undiminished  love.  There  is  no  question, 
tell  him,  of  forgiveness.  The  act  of  God  must  not  be  ques- 
tioned. But  the  pity  of  it — oh  !  doctor — the  pity  of  it !"  and 
with  that  he  fell  to  weeping  like  a  child. 

And  then  the  two  old  men  wept  together,  but  I,  who  knew 
what  had  happened  and  that  there  would  be  no  execution  that 
day,  had  no  tears. 

They  carried  back  the  admiral  and  put  him  to  bed  again,  and 
I  accompanied  my  father  as  far  as  the  Stairs.  As  I  returned 
slowly,  my  heart  full  of  strange  emotions,  the  bell  of  St.  Paul's 
began  to  toll  the  passing  knell.  No  need  to  ask  for  whom  that 
bell  was  tolling.  At  the  sound  the  women  came  to  the  doors 
and  began  to  cry,  and  to  talk  together,  full  of  pity,  the  kind- 
hearted  creatures,  shrews  as  they  were,  and  slatterns,  and  drabs. 
The  old  men  at  the  Trinity  Hospital  were  gathered  together  in 
their  quadrangle,  talking  of  the  boy  they  had  known  and  loved. 
The  barber  and  his  four  'prentices  were  busy  shaving,  the  shop 
full,  everybody  talking  at  the  same  time ;  and  in  his  doorway 
stood  Mr.  Westmoreland,  looking  up  and  down  the  street,  with 
troubled  face. 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  he  asked.     "  Mr.  Luke,  where  is  my  Bess  ?" 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Westmoreland,"  I  replied,  "  where  should  she 
be  if  not  in  her  own  bed  ?" 

"  She  hath  not  been  home  all  night.  I  have  heard  talk  of 
her  and  Captain  Easterbrook.  But  that  poor  young  man  is  to 
be  shot  this  morning.  Where  can  she  be  ?  They  tell  me  that 
she  spends  the  days  in  his  cabin.  Sir,  you  know  them  both : 
I'faith,  he  hath  played  her  false.  Who  would  have  daughters  ? 
Yet  if  she  is  all  day  long  with  him,  needs  must  that  she  come 
ashore  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Luke.  Who,  sir,  I  ask  you,  would 
have  daughters  to  plague  his  old  age  ?  I  thought  she  might 
have  stayed  at  the  apothecary's,  and  I  have  knocked,  but  I  can 


396  THE   WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

make  no  one  hear.  Think  you  that  Mr.  Brinjes  is  dead  ?  He 
is  already  of  a  very  great  old  age.  This  is  a  terrible  morning. 
That  poor  young  gentleman  must  die ;  he  must  be  cut  off  in 
the  pride  of  his  life  and  strength,  the  comeliest  man  I  have 
ever  seen,  and  he  hath  stolen  my  daughter's  heart  away.  Why, 
what  shall  I  do  with  her  when  he  is  dead  ?  How  shall  I  endure 
her  despair  and  her  grief ;  how  find  consolation  to  assuage  her 
wrath  when  he  is  gone  ?" 

I  knew  very  well  how  that  question  would  be  answered.  But 
I  could  not  tell  him  what  had  happened. 

"  It  is  his  passing-bell,"  the  penman  continued.  "  Lord  have 
mercy  upon  his  soul !  He  is  young,  and  hath  doubtless  com- 
mitted some  of  the  sins  of  youth  ?  the  Lord  forgive  him !  He 
hath  often  used  profane  language,  and  that  in  my  hearing. 
The  Lord  forgive  him !  As  for  his  striking  his  colors,  that 
will  not,  I  am  sure,  be  laid  to  his  charge.  Besides,  he  hath 
atoned  for  this  sin  by  his  death.  The  Lord  forgive  him  for  an 
honest  and  brave  lad !  'Twas  once  a  joy  to  see  him  handle  his 
logarithms.  Will  they  bury  him  in  St.  Paul's  churchyard? 
Poor  lad !  Poor  lad !  What  shall  I  say  to  Bess  to  comfort 
her  when  she  comes  home  ?" 

Thus  he  went  on  prattling ;  but  I  left  him. 

At  the  door  of  Mr.  Brinjes's  shop  stood  his  assistant,  knock- 
ing. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  that  something  hath  happened 
to  my  master,  for  I  have  knocked  and  cannot  make  him  hear." 

I  advised  him  to  wait  half  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  to  knock 
again. 

It  was  impossible  to  rest.  I  went  again  to  the  Stairs,  where 
the  watermen  should  be  hanging  about.  There  was  not  one 
man  there,  nor  a  single  boat.  Round  the  Calypso  there  was  a 
great  fleet  of  ships'  boats,  and  Thames  boats,  all  waiting  for 
the  execution.  People  had  come  down  from  London — even, 
they  said,  as  far  as  from  Chelsea — to  see  the  sight.  Why, 
they  could  see  nothing  from  the  river.  True,  they  might  have 
the  satisfaction  of  hearing  the  roll  of  the  muskets.  There 
never  was  so  great  a  concourse  on  the  river,  even  on  the  day  of 
Horn  Fair. 

At  eight  o'clock — the  time  of  execution — everybody  listened 
to  hear  the  rattling  of  the  guns.  But  there  was  silence.  Pres- 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  397 

cntly,  I  know  not  how  it  began,  there  sprang  up  a  rumor — only 
a  rumor  at  first — that  the  sentence  would  not  be  carried  out 
that  morning ;  then  it  became  certain  that  there  would  be  no 
execution  at  all ;  and  it  was  spread  abroad  that,  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, the  captain  had  been  respited.  About  eleven  o'clock 
the  boats  dispersed  and  returned  again,  the  people  disap- 
pointed. It  was  not  until  later  that  it  was  known — because  at 
first  no  one,  not  even  my  father  and  his  clerk,  were  permitted 
to  leave  the  ship — that  Captain  Easterbrook  could  not  be  shot, 
because  he  could  not  be  found. 

I  found  the  apothecary's  shop  open — they  had  broken  in 
at  the  back — and  the  assistant  was  mixing  medicines  and  pre- 
scribing. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  my  master  is  gone.  He  hath  not  slept  in 
his  bed.  He  hath  taken  his  money  and  his  charts,  but  nothing 
else." 

"His  money  and  his  charts?  How  do  you  know  that  he 
hath  taken  his  money  ?" 

"  I  know  where  he  kept  it,  and  I  looked  to  see  if  it  was  gone. 
Because,  I  said,  if  my  master's  money  is  still  there,  he  will  re- 
turn. But  it  is  gone  ;  therefore  I  know  that  he  has  gone." 

"  Whither  hath  he  gone,  sirrah  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  sir ;  any  more  " — here  fie  looked  mighty  cun- 
ning— "than  I  know  whither  Captain  Easterbrook  hath  gone, 
or  Bess  Westmoreland,  or  what  you  were  doing  with  my  mas- 
ter and  Bess  on  the  Stairs  last  night  at  nine  o'clock." 

Now,  I  have  never  learned  if  this  man  knew  more  than  the 
fact  that  we  were  upon  the  Stairs  at  that  time.  Certainly,  he 
could  not  know  the  whole  truth. 

"  I  think,"  I  said,  "  that  if  I  were  you,  I  would  continue  to 
carry  on  the  business  without  asking  any  questions,  until  your 
master  returns." 

"  I  will,  sir,"  he  replied ;  and  he  did.  His  master  did  not 
return,  and  this  fortunate  young  man  succeeded  to  a  good  stock 
and  a  flourishing  trade,  and  would  doubtless  have  become  rich 
but  for  the  accident  of  being  killed  by  a  drunken  sailor. 

When  it  became  known  that  Mr.  Brinjes,  Bess,  and  the  cap- 
tain had  all  disappeared  on  the  same  evening,  it  was  impossible 
not  to  connect  these  three  events ;  and  all  the  world  believed 
(what  was  perfectly  true)  that  the  girl  had  run  away  with  the 


398  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY  WELL    THEN. 

captain,  and  that  Mr.  Brinjes  had  gone,  too,  out  of  pure  affec- 
tion for  them. 

The  admiral  presently  recovered  from  his  attack,  but  he  went 
no  more  to  the  Sir  John  Falstaff,  and  entirely  lost  his  former 
spirits ;  and,  as  I  have  already  said,  within  a  year  or  two  was 
carried  off  by  an  attack  of  gout  in  the  stomach.  Shortly  after- 
wards I  was  so  happy  as  to  win  the  affections  of  Castilla.  She 
informed  me  that,  although  she  was  carried  away  by  natural 
pride  in  so  gallant  a  wooer  as  Jack,  she  had  never  felt  for  him 
such  an  assurance  in  his  constancy  as  is  necessary  to  secure 
happiness,  and  that  when  she  heard  of  his  infatuated  passion 
for  so  common  a  creature  as  Bess  Westmoreland,  she  was 
thankful  for  her  release,  though  she  deplored  the  sad  cause  of 
it.  "  We  no  longer,"  she  often  says,  "  burn  women  for  witch- 
craft, but  such  a  girl  as  Bess,  who  can  so  bewitch  a  gallant 
man  as  to  make  him  invoke  the  curse  of  Heaven  upon  him  if 
he  prove  inconstant,  and  thereby  bring  him  to  shame  and  dis- 
grace, ought  to  be  punished  in  some  condign  and  exemplary 
manner."  It  is  not  my  practice  to  argue  with  my  wife,  espe- 
cially on  points  where  we  are  not  likely  to  agree ;  and  as  Bess 
will  probably  never  return,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  punished, 
Castilla  may  say  anything  she  pleases  about  her.  For  my  own 
part,  my  heart  has  always  been  with  that  poor  girl,  who  did 
not  seek  for  or  expect  the  honor  of  Jack's  affections,  and  whose 
only  witchery  was  in  her  beauty  and  her  black  eyes. 

On  the  conclusion  of  peace,  in  1762,  Aaron  Fletcher,  with 
many  other  marines,  was  disbanded,  but  he  was  afraid  to  vent- 
ure back  into  Deptf  ord,  where  his  creditors  would  have  arrested 
him.  I  know  not  for  a  certainty  what  he  did  to  bring  the  arm 
of  the  law  upon  him ;  but  I  know  what  became  of  him ;  for 
one  day,  being  at  Limehouse,  I  saw  going  along  the  road  on 
the  way  to  the  Stairs,  where  were  waiting  several  ships'  boats, 
a  dismal  company  of  convicts,  for  embarkation  to  the  planta- 
tions of  Jamaica,  or  Barbadoes,  or  some  other  West  Indian  isl- 
and. There  were  at  least  a  hundred  of  them,  walking  two  and 
two,  handcuffed  in  pairs.  Some  of  these  were  in  rags,  some 
shaking  with  prison-fever,  some  dejected,  some  angry  and  mu- 
tinous, some  were  singing — there  are  wretches  so  hardened  that 
they  will  sing  ribald  songs  on  their  way  even  to  the  gallows. 


THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.          399 

One  there  was  of  appearance  and  bearing  superior  to  the  rest, 
by  whose  side  there  walked  a  young  woman,  his  wife  or  mis- 
tress, bearing  a  baby,  and  crying  bitterly ;  another,  beside 
whom  walked  a  grave  and  sober  citizen,  the  brother  or  cousin 
of  the  convict,  the  tears  in  his  eyes.  But  mostly  there  were 
no  friends  or  relations  to  mourn  over  this  outcast  crew.  And 
at  the  head  marched  a  band  of  fifes  and  drums,  playing 
"  Through  the  woods,  laddie ;"  and  a  crowd  of  boys  followed, 
whooping  and  hallooing.  When  the  procession  was  nearly 
past,  I  was  surprised  to  see  among  the  men,  handcuffed  to- 
gether, no  other  than  Aaron  Fletcher  and  Mr.  Jonathan  Ray- 
ment,  the  crimp.  The  latter  was  pale,  and  his  fat  cheeks 
shook,  and  all  his  limbs  trembled  with  fever.  'Twould  have 
been  merciful  to  let  him  lie  till  death  should  carry  him  off. 
But  Aaron  walked  upright,  looking  about  him  with  eyes  full 
of  mutiny  and  murder.  I  know  not  if  he  saw  me ;  but  the 
procession  filed  past,  and  the  band  went  on  playing  at  the  head 
of  the  Stairs  while  the  wretches  embarked  on  board  the  boats. 
As  for  the  crimes  which  Aaron  and  his  companion  had  com- 
mitted, I  do  not  know  what  they  were,  but  I  suspect  kidnap- 
ping formed  part.  I  have  never  learned  what  became  of  Mr. 
Rayment ;  but  concerning  Aaron  there  afterwards  came  intelli- 
gence that  he  could  not  brook  the  overseer's  lash  and  the  hot 
sun,  and  fled,  with  intent  to  join  the  wild  Maroons,  but  was 
followed  by  bloodhounds,  and  pursued,  and,  being  brought 
back  to  his  master,  was,  naturally,  flogged.  He  then  sickened 
of  a  calenture  and  died.  He  was  a  bad  man ;  but  he  was  pun- 
ished for  his  sins.  Indeed,  it  is  most  true  that  the  way  of 
transgressors  is  hard. 

Lastly,  to  complete  this  narrative,  I  must  tell  you  of  a 
message  which  came  to  me  five  or  six  years  after  the  court- 
martial.  It  was  brought  even  from  the  Southern  Seas.  Heard 
one  ever  of  a  message  or  letter  from  that  remote  and  unknown 
part? 

There  was  a  certain  wild  fellow,  Deptford  born,  named  Will 
Acorn  by  name.  This  young  man,  for  sins  of  his  which  need 
not  delay  us,  left  his  native  town,  where  he  had  been  brought 
up  as  a  shipwright,  and  went  to  sea.  Nor  did  he  come  back 
again  for  several  years,  when  he  reappeared,  the  old  business 
being  now  blown  over  and  forgotten.  And  presently  he  came 


400  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

to  my  house,  I  then  living  in  St.  Martin  Street  for  convenience 
of  business,  and  told  me  a  strange  story. 

With  some  other  privateers  of  Jamaica,  where  these  fellows 
are  mostly  found,  he  must  needs  try  his  fortune  in  the  South 
Seas.  Accordingly,  they  got  possession  of  a  brig,  or  barco- 
longo,  as  they  call  this  kind  of  ship  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
they  armed  her  with  certain  carronades  and  peteraroes,  and,  to 
the  number  of  eighty  or  ninety  stout  men,  all  fully  armed,  put 
out  to  sea.  In  short  they  proposed  to  go  a  pirating  among  the 
Spanish  settlements,  as  many  have  done  before  them. 

It  matters  not  here  what  was  the  success  of  their  voyage — 
Will  Acorn,  at  least,  returned  home  in  a  very  ragged  and  pen- 
niless condition.  This,  however,  was  the  man's  story  : 

"  We  sighted  one  morning  at  daybreak,  being  then  not  far 
from  Masa  Fuera,  a  large  brigantine  flying  Spanish  colors.  She 
was  much  too  big  for  us  to  tackle,  therefore  we  hoisted  the 
Spanish  flag,  too,  and  bore  away,  hoping  that  she  would  let  us 
alone,  and  go  on  her  own  course.  But  that  would  not  suit  her, 
neither,  and  she  fired  a  shot  across  our  bows,  as  a  signal  to 
back  sail.  This  we  did,  expecting  nothing  short  of  hanging, 
for  she  carried  thirty  guns  at  least,  and  we  could  see  that  she 
was  well  manned,  and  looked  as  if  she  was  handled  by  a  French 
captain,  under  whom  even  a  Creolian  Spanish  crew  will  fight. 
Well,  she  spoke  us  when  she  was  near  enough,  and  ordered,  in 
Spanish,  that  the  captain  was  to  come  aboard.  Now,  as  I  was 
the  only  man  who  had  any  Spanish,  our  captain  bade  me  to 
come  with  him.  So  I  went,  and  we  thought  we  were  going  to 
instant  death,  the  Spaniards  being  born  devils  when  they  get 
an  English  crew  in  their  power. 

"  Sir,"  this  honest  fellow  continued,  "  think  of  our  astonish- 
ment when,  on  climbing  the  vessel's  side,  they  ran  up  the 
pirates'  flag ;  to  be  sure,  we  were  little  else  than  pirates  our- 
selves; but  we  knew  not  what  countrymen  these  were.  As 
for  the  crew,  they  were  nearly  all  black  negroes,  and  a  devilish 
fighting  lot  they  looked,  being  armed  with  pistols  and  cutlasses, 
while  the  decks  were  cleared  for  action,  and  every  man  to  quar- 
ters, and  the  whole  as  neat  and  clean  as  aboard  a  British  man- 
o'-war.  And  on  the  quarter-deck  there  stood,  glass  in  hand, 
none  other  than  Captain  Easterbrook  himself,  the  same  as  was 
tried  by  court-martial,  sentenced,  and  escaped.  Ho  was  dressed 


THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN.  401 

very  fine,  in  crimson  silk,  with  a  gold  chain,  and  pistols  in  his 
belt.  I  knew  him  directly ;  but  his  face  is  changed,  for  now 
it  is  the  face  of  one  who  gives  no  quarter.  A  fiercer  face  I 
never  saw  anywhere. 

"But  the  strangest  thing  was  that  I  saw  lying  in  the  sun, 
propped  up  by  pillows  and  cushions,  the  old  Deptford  apothe- 
cary, Mr.  Brinjes.  He  looked  no  older,  and  no  younger ;  his 
one  eye  twinkling  and  winking,  and  his  face  covered  with 
wrinkles. 

"  ( Will  Acorn  ahoy !'  he  sings  out.  *  Will  Acorn,  by  the 
Lord !' 

"  When  he  said  this,  there  came  out  from  the  captain's  cabin 
a  most  splendid  lady,  dressed  in  all  the  satins  and  silks  you  can 
think  of,  with  gold  chains  round  her  neck,  and  jewels  spark- 
ling in  her  hair.  Behind  her  came  two  black  women,  holding 
a  silken  sunshade  over  her  head.  .  Why,  sir,  'twas  none  other 
than  Bess  Westmoreland,  the  penman's  daughter,  and  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  though  her  cheek  was  pale,  and  eyes  were 
somewhat  anxious. 

"  '  Will  Acorn  ?'  she  cried.  « Is  that  Will  Acorn,  of  Dept- 
ford Town  ?' 

"  So  with  that  the  captain  called  us  from  the  poop.  «  Harkye,' 
he  said, '  you  seem  to  be  Englishmen.  What  ship  is  yours  ?' 

"  So  we  told  him  who  we  were,  and  why  we  were  cruising 
in  those  seas.  He  listened — 'tis  a  terrible  fighting  face — and 
heard  us  out,  and  then  bade  us  drink  and  go  our  way. 

"  *  I  war  not  with  Englishmen,'  he  said  ;  '  but  for  French  and 
Spaniard  I  know  no  quarter.' 

"  He  said  no  more,  but  his  lady — Bess  Westmoreland  that 
was — stepped  out  to  us,  and  asked  me  many  questions  about 
Deptford  folk.  And  then  she  put  into  my  hands  this  parcel, 
which  I  faithfully  promised  to  deliver  into  your  hands,  sir, 
should  I  ever  return  home  again.  And  I  was  to  tell  you  that 
they  had  found  "Mr.  Brinjes's  island,  and  she  was  as  happy  as 
she  could  expect  to  be.  And  then  Mr.  Brinjes  lifted  his  head 
and  said,  in  a  piping  voice,  '  And  tell  him,'  he  said,  with  his 
one  eye  like  a  burning  coal,  '  tell  Luke  Anguish,  man,  that  we 
committed  the  town  of  Guayaquil  to  the  flames.  'Twould  have 
done  his  heart  good  to  see  the  town  on  fire,  and  the  Spaniards 
roasting  like  so  many  heretics  at  the  stake  !'  " 


402  THE    WORLD    WENT    VERY    WELL    THEN. 

This  was  the  message.  The  parcel  contained  a  gold  chain 
and  cross,  set  with  precious  stones,  which  I  gave  to  Castilla, 
hoping  thereby  to  make  her  think  less  hardly  of  poor  Bess. 
But  in  vain ;  though  she  wears  the  chain,  which,  she  says — 
though  this  is  not  the  case — was  sent  to  her  by  Captain  Easter- 
brook,  in  token  of  his  repentance,  and  his  unhappiness  with 
the  woman  who  bewitched  him,  and  his  continual  sorrow  for 
the  loss  of  her  own  hand. 

It  is  now  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  and  since  then  we  have 
heard  nothing  more.  I  conjecture  that  either  they  have  long 
since  been  swallowed  up  in  a  hurricane,  Bess  dying,  as  she 
wished,  at  the  same  moment  as  Jack,  or  that  they  are  still  liv- 
ing somewhere  in  those  warm  and  sunny  islands  of  which  the 
apothecary  was  never  wearied  of  discoursing. 


THE    END. 


WILLIAM  BLACK'S  NOVELS. 


LIBRARY    EDITION. 

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A  DAUGHTER  OF  HETH. 
A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 
GREEN    PASTURES    AND    PICCA- 
DILLY. 

IN  SILK  ATTIRE. 
JUDITH   SHAKESPEARE.    HIM. 
KILMENY. 

MACLEOD  OF  DARE.    Illustrated. 
MADCAP  VIOLET. 
SHANDON  BELLS.    Illustrated. 


STRANGE     ADVENTURES     OF     A 

PHAETON. 
SUNRISE. 

THAT  BEAUTIFUL  WRETCH.    Ill'd. 
THE   STRANGE  ADVENTURES   OF 

A  HOUSE-BOAT.    Illustrated. 
THREE  FEATHERS. 
WHITE  HEATHER. 
WHITE  WINGS.    Illustrated. 
YOLANDE.    Illustrated. 


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WILKIE  COLLINSES  NOVELS. 


LIBRARY  EDITION. 

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AFTER  DARK,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

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MAN  AND  WIFE. 

MY  MISCELLANIES. 

NO  NAME. 


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THE  MOONSTONE. 
THE  NEW  MAGDALEN. 
THE  QUEEN  OF  HEARTS. 
THE'  TWO  DESTINIES. 
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CHARLES  READERS  WORKS. 

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A  SIMPLETON,  AND  THE  WAN- 


DERING HEIR. 
A  TERRIBLE  TEMPTATION. 


°  °  ™ 


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GRIFFITH  GAUNT. 
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IT    IS    NEVER   TOO    LATE    TO 

MEND. 
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W.  M.  THACKERAY'S  WORKS. 


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GEORGE  ELIOT'S  LIFE  AND  WORKS. 


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POPULAR  EDITION. 

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H.  RIDER  HAGGARD'S   STORIES. 


There  are  color,  splendor,  and  passion  everywhere ;  action  in  abundance ;  con- 
stant variety  and  absorbing  interest  Mr.  Haggard  does  not  err  on  the  side  of  nig- 
gardliness; he  is  only  too  affluent  in  description  and  ornament.  . . .  There  is  a 
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tic side  of  fiction ;  that  is,  on  the  side  of  truth  and  permanent  value.  ...  He  is 
already  one  of  the  foremost  modern  romance  writers — N.  Y.  World. 

Mr.  Haggard  has  a  genius,  not  to  say  a  great  talent,  for  story-telling.  .  .  .  That 
he  should  have  a  large  circle  of  readers  in  England  and  this  country,  where  so 
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of  Dickens  and  Thackeray  and  Scott,  the  older  days  of  Smollett  and  Fielding,  and 
the  old,  old  days  of  Le  Sage  and  Cervantes.— .V.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

That  region  of  the  universe  of  romance  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  opened  up  is 
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There  is  a  charm  in  tracing  the  ingenuity  of  the  author,  and  a  sense  of  satisfac- 
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ID     r H  I  7*t 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


